THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2010  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


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THE  LAST  MAN 


A  NOVEL 


BY 


N.  MONROE  MCLAUGHLIN 


\10N    IN    SOLO 


WASHINGTON 

THE  NEALE  COMPANY 

431   ELEVENTH  STREET  NORTHWEST 
1900 


COPYRIGHT,    1900,    BY    N.    M.    M'LAUGHLIN 
ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED 


TO  MY   WIFE 


603120 


PREFATORY. 


After  the  major  part  of  this  story  had  been  writ- 
ten, events  of  transcendent  importance  to  the  nation 
occurred,  events  following  each  other  with  such 
rapidity  as  to  challenge  and  command  the  admira- 
tion of  the  civilized  world.  To  enumerate  or  de- 
scribe such  would  be  presumptuous,  and  no  work 
of  that  nature  will  be  attempted. 

Great  responsibilities  have  been  assumed,  great 
problems  are  to  be  solved,  and  the  greatest  wisdom 
will  be  required  to  meet  these  new  conditions  and 
develop  the  results  which  may  be  rightfully  ex- 
pected of  the  nation.  Best  of  all  thus  far  attained 
is  the  sweet  revelation  that  there  ought  not  to  be — 
and  is  no  longer — a  North,  a  South,  an  East,  or 
a  West ;  but,  instead,  one  great,  indivisible,  patri- 
otic, prosperous  country  and  people. 

Pessimism — that  bird  of  evil  form  and  omen — 
may  now  betake  itself  to  the  dark  abodes  of  despair, 
While  Optimism  displays  her  fine  form  and  richly- 
tinted  plumage  in  the  bright  rays  of  the  sun  of 
prosperity. 

This  story,  aiming  to  be  consonant  with  the  views 
here  set  forth,  is  now  presented  to  his  fellow-citizens 
by 

THE  AUTHOR. 

March  i,  1900. 


INDEX. 

Prologue 9 

The  Beginning 17 

Preliminary  Engagements     25 

War  in  Earnest 34 

Deliverance 44 

The  Wrestling  of  Giants 53 

In  the  Hands  of  the  Enemy 62 

Convalescence 72 

Exchanged 83 

Promotion 95 

Cogitations 108 

The  Troth-Plight 119 

The  Marriage      130 

The  Fiery  Furnace 141 

"  The  Hawk's 'Nest  "      I53 

Light  Ahead 164 

The  Wanderer's  Return 174 

The  Colony      186 

The  Broken  Link I95 

Lengthening  Shadows 206 

The  Ending 215 


THE  LAST  MAN 


PROLOGUE. 


Never  S'hone  the  sun  more  brightly  than  on  July 
4,  1926.  It  is  the  one  hundred  and  fiftieth  anni- 
versary of  the  birth  of  the  great  Republic,  and  the 
one  hundredth  anniversary  of  the  deaths  of  two  of 
its  earlier  Presidents.  Washington,  "The  City 
Beautiful,"  the  Capital,  is  to  celebrate  this  day  of 
days,  and  call  to  mind  the  greatness,  the  patriotism, 
and  the  distinguished  services  of  those  two  chief 
magistrates,  eminent  among  the  immortals  who 
enacted  and  signed  the  Declaration  of  Independ- 
ence. 

From  thousands  of  fiagstafifs  and  windows,  on 
the  tops  of  all  the  Government  buildings,  at  the 
Arsenal  and  the  Navy  Yard,  at  Fort  Myer,  above 
the  crown  of  the  Goddess  of  Liberty — bedecked  in 
costliest  gilding,  on  statues  of  heroes  in  parks  and 
other  public  places,  on  street  cars,  steam  cars,  and 
steamers,  floats  "Old  Glory," — the  banner  of  beauty, 
the  sign  of  liberty  for  the  world,  in  whose  azure 
field  glitter  and  sparkle  fifty  bright  stars ! 

Thirteen  then ;  fifty  now  ! 

Upon  the  fronts  of  thousands  of  business  blocks, 
palatial  residences,  and  even  upon  the  cots  of  the 


10  THE  LAST  MAN 

poor,  and  from  strong  ropes  stretched  at  greatest 
heights  across  streets  and  avenues,  hang  in  shields, 
clusters,  festoons,  and  other  multiform  shapes,  the 
gayest  of  bunting,  the  whole  transforming  the 
Capital  into  a  bower  of  transcendent  beauty  and 
magnificence. 

Down  in  Monument  Lot,  and  Grand  Army  Place, 
the  hand  and  the  genius  of  the  decorator  are  sig- 
nally displayed. 

Flags  large,  flags  small,  and  bunting  everywhere ! 

Memorial  Bridge,  that  noblest  example  of  similar 
structures,  is  literally  hidden  by  its  massive  decora- 
tions. 

Depending  from  the  windows  near  the  summit  of 
the  Washington  Monument,  on  massive  staffs,  float 
flags  more  than  forty  feet  in  length  by  twenty  in 
wddth. 

At  varying  heights,  from  fifty  to  a  hundred  feet, 
suspended  by  strong  ropes  depending  from  the 
windows  of  the  Monument,  hang  greatly  magnified 
copies  of  the  Declaration,  and  portraits  of  all  the 
Presidents,  the  two  whose  lives  and  deaths  are  to  be 
commemorated  occupying  the  lowest  altitude,  in 
order  to  be  easily  and  accurately  seen  and  studied. 

At  the  northwest  angle  of  the  Monument  there 
is  a  spacious  platform,  and  on  its  flanks  and  in  front 
is  a  great  structure  of  seats,  arranged  as  an  amphi- 
theater, for  the  occupancy  of  the  organizations  that 
are  to  be  present :  The  Sons  of  the  Revolution, 
Daughters  ol  the  Revolution,  Sons  and  Daughters 
of  the  American  Revolution,  sons  and  daughters  of 


PROLOGUE  11 

the  veterans  of  later  wars,  and  professors  and 
alumni  of  the  four  great  universities  at  the  Capital. 

On  the  platform  are  to  sit  the  President,  his 
Cabinet,  the  Supreme  Court,  Senators  and  Mem- 
bers of  Congi-ess,  the  Committee  of  Arrangements, 
and  the  reader  and  speakers. 

In  front  of  these,  and  at  a  lower  elevation,  facing 
the  audience,  is  to  sit  the  greatest  aggregation  of 
singers  and  instrumentalists  ever  assembled. 

The  city  clocks  simultaneously  strike  the  hour 
of  ten.  Chimes  of  bells  ring  out  the  notes  of  the 
national  aiuthem ;  great  guns  on  the  White  Lot, 
down  at  the  Arsenal,  and  over  at  Fort  Myer,  bel- 
low so  loudly  as  to  shake  the  very  earth,  stir  the 
air  with  quivers,  and  send  troops  of  echoes  chasing 
each  other  up  and  down  the  Potomac,  away  to  the 
hills  of  Anacostia  and  over  to  the  massive  pineries 
of  silent,  sacred  Arlington.  Drums  in  every  direc- 
tion roll  out  their  deep  bass  notes;  bugles  sound 
the  signal  for  marching;  and,  anon,  from  every 
point  of  the  compass,  from  a  score  of  armories  and 
rendezvous,  march  forth  and  forward  along  streets 
and  avenues  the  various  societies  and  gaily  uni- 
formed companies  and  battalions  of  men  under 
arms,  all  moving  toward  the  Monument,  that  loftiest 
commemorative  pile  under  the  sun. 

Meantime,  thousands  of  citizens,  within  a  radius 
of  many  miles,  come  pouring  in  over  street  rail- 
ways, steam  railways,  on  steamers,  and  across 
Memorial  Bridge ;  and  two  hundred  thousand  of 
the  people  of  the  city,  one-third  of  its  population, 


12  THE  LAST  MAN 

join  these  and  swell  the  mass  to  gigantic  propor- 
tions. 

Quickly,  yet  without  confusion,  the  component 
parts  of  this  wonderful  assemblage  are  in  place, 
and  the  advertised  functions  begin. 

First,  the  vast  choir,  accompanied  by  the  orches- 
tra, renders  that  grand  old  hymn,  "America."  At 
every  accented  note  a  gun  in  the  battery,  two  hun- 
dred yards  distant,  is  fired  by  electricity,  discharged 
by  touching  a  keyboard  on  the  grand  stand. 

The  very  sky  seems  to  echo  the  grand  prayer — 

"Long  may  our  land  be  bright, 
With  freedom's  holy  light ! 
Protect  us  by  Thy  might, 
Great  God,  our  King!" 

As  the  last  note  ceases,  a  tall,  scholarly-looking 
Doctor  of  Divinity  stands  forth  and  utters  an  elo- 
quent invocation,  which  is  followed  by  the  singing 
of  "Tlie  Star-Spangled  Banner,"  accompanied  not 
only  by  artillery  and  anvils,  but  by  a  beautiful  and 
elaborate  Rag  drill  performed  by  a  bevy  of  fifty 
young  girls,  decorated  with  the  national  colors. 

Then  rises  and  advances  to  the  front  of  the  plat- 
form the  young  man,  a  university  student,  wliose 
office  it  is  to  read  that  immortal  paper,  the  Decla- 
ration. 

With  a  voice  of  great  power,  depth,  and  reso- 
nance, he  begins :  "When  in  the  course  of  human 
events" — his  delivery  is  perfect  and  masterful,  and 
the  immense  throngs  are  electrified  and  fascinated. 
He  proceeds :   "We  hold  these  truths  to  be  self- 


PROLOGUE  13 

evident" — he  ceases  to  read ;  what  has  happened  ? 
A  low-toned,  wide-spread  buzz  of  wonder  pervades 
the  mass  of  people,  and  the  reader,  following  their 
upward  gaze,  beholds  a  spectacle  never  seen  before, 
and,  perhaps,  never  to  be  seen  again  under  like 
circumstances.  High  above  the  apex  of  the  Monu- 
ment a  genuine  American  eagle,  "the  bird  of  free- 
dom," soars  in  circles  whose  center  is  the  mighty 
shaft  extended  upVvard.  At  short  intervals  he 
emits  that  peculiar  note  which  belong-s  to  his  spe- 
cies alone.  For  several  minutes  he  continues  to 
describe  those  circles,  while  the  concourse  of  peo- 
ple regard  the  incident  as  a  special  omen  of  good ! 
Has  the  "Majesty  of  all  the  earth"  sent  this  bird, 
as  He  set  His  bow  of  promise  in  the  cloud,  and  for 
a  like  purpose?  At  length  the  bird  soars  away  in  a 
direct  line  across  the  Potomac  to  the  heights  and 
pines  of  Arlington. 

The  reader  resumes,  interrupted  frequently  by 
great  applause,  and  when  he  closes  with  those 
impassioned  words,  "we  pledge  our  lives,  our  for- 
tunes and  our  sacred  honor,"  flags  wave  wildly, 
guns  speak,  bands  play,  and  the  people,  with  one 
accord,  rise  and  give  vent  to  one  long,  loud,  deafen- 
ing shout  that  is  heard  in  Anacostia. 

An  orator,  than  whom  few  are  more  gifted,  now 
engages  attention.  He  congratulates  his  hearers 
upon  the  perfect  day,  the  "azure  skies  bending  o'er 
them,"  the  almost  limitless  number  of  people  pres- 
ent, the  beauty  of  the  decorations,  the  magnificent 
spirit  that  prompted  all  this  expenditure,  and,  best 


14  THE  LAST  MAN 

of  all,  that  on  this,  the  dearest  spot  on  earth,  except 
each  one's  home,  the  most  completely  American 
of  all  places  under  Heaven,  is  celebrated  this  anni- 
versary. 

As  he  raises  his  eyes  and  face  to  emphasize  his 
last  words,  another  strange  spectacle  meets  his 
gaze.  His  voice  ceases,  but  his  steady  look  upward 
directs  the  eyes  of  the  audience.  Wonder  of  won- 
ders !  Beautiful  apparition  !  Happy  omen !  Directly 
over  and  surrounding  the  apex  of  the  Monument 
in  a  circle  of  thirty  degrees  or  more  in  diameter,  a 
most  magnificent  corona  shines ! 

In  glad,  sweet  silence,  broken  only  by  low  mur- 
murs and  ejaculations,  the  multitudes  gaze  for  many 
moments. 

At  length  the  orator,  recovering  his  voice  and 
self-control,  breaks  forth :  "Tlie  Bird  of  Freedom, 
now  so  rare,  comes  many  a  weary  league  from  his 
mountain  crag  to  visit  this  spot  and  this  scene ;  and 
now,  O  rarest  gift  of  God !  He  again  sets  His  bow 
of  promise  over  and  above  this  sacred  pile,  as  a 
token  that  the  Republic  shall  live  'tO'  the  last  syl- 
lable of  recorded  time !' "  For  fully  half  an  hour 
the  corona  remains,  then  slowly  fades  away. 

The  elaborate  program  has  been  followed  until 
the  last  number  is  reached. 

•  A  space  on  the  platform  is  cleared,  upon  which 
comes  a  bevy  of  little  maidens,  two  by  two,  strew- 
ing flowers  as  they  move.  Following  them,  ad- 
vances a  body  of  boys  and  young  men,  bearing 
each  a  flag  which  he  waves  in  time  with  music. 


PROLOGUE  15 

Then  approaches,  leaning  on  the  shoulder  of  a  stal- 
wart young  man  on  each  side,  a  tall,  erect,  gray- 
haired  man  of  at  least  eighty-four  winters.  His 
eyes  are  clear  and  expressive ;  his  face  beams  with 
benevolence  and  happiness,  and  his  lips  are 
wreathed  in  a  genuine,  natural  smile. 

Meantime  a  forest  of  flags  wave  and  cheerful  but 
deafening  shouts  fill  the  space  for  a  furlong  around. 

The  master  of  ceremonies  signals  for  silence,  and 
announces  that  the  committee  had  made  great 
effort  to  secure  the  presence  of  a  company  of  such 
men  as  the  one  now  before  them,  but  that  the 
attempt  had  been  futile,  and  facts  in  possession  of 
the  committee  showed,  beyond  a  doubt,  that  this 
is  the  sole  man  of  his  class  now  living. 

"A  brief  address,"  announces  the  chairman,  'Svill 
now  be  presented  by  the  Hon.  John  W.  Francis, 
the  Secretary  of  State." 

The  speaker,  after  shaking  hands  with  the  aged 
man,  begins  with  a  paraphrase  of  Webster's  cele- 
brated oration  at  the  dedication  of  Bunker  Hill 
Monument :  "Venerable  man !  you  have  come 
down  to  us  from  a  former  generation!"  He  then 
portrays  the  life  and  services  of  the  man  before 
them,  and  closes  with  the  peroration :  "May  the 
God  of  nations,  caring  for  this  nation  in  the  future 
as  in  the  past,  continue  to  raise  up  men,  like  this 
man,  equal  to  every  emergency,  inspired  by  holy 
patriotism,  and  fired  by  dauntless  courage,  that  the 
cause  of  liberty,  defined  by  law;  the  cause  of 
humanity  and  human  elevation,  promoted  and  en- 


16  THE  LAST  MAN 

hanced  by  the  useful  as  well  as  the  ornamental  arts 
and  sciences ;  and  the  cause  of  God,  promoted  and 
illustrated  by  the  fullest  'freedom  to  worship  Him' 
in  accord  with  the  wishes  and  desires  of  each  wor- 
shiper, may  be  assured  to  all  generations !  And, 
to  secure  and  perpetuate  these  paramount  princi- 
ples and  privileges,  shall  ever  be  the  highest,  the 
holiest,  the  most  engrossing  of  all  the  thoughts, 
ambitions,  and  engagements  of  American  freemen !" 

He  bows  and  retires,  and  so  does  the  aged  man. 

The  pageant  is  ended. 

Who  is  this  mxan? 


I. 

THE  BEGINNING. 

"What  is  all  this  talk  and  excitement  about?" 
asked  a  student  of  Magnolia  College  of  his  com- 
panion, as  they  walked  from  their  rooms  to  the 
college  chapel  to  attend  the  devotional  exercises  of 
the  morning.  'T  hear  talk  about  war,  and  last 
evening  two  prominent  business  men  agreed  that 
'matters  had  gone  so  far  that  nothing  would  settle 
the  difficulty  but  a  resort  to  the  last  argument, — 
arms.' " 

"What  is  it  all  about?"  his  fellow  student,  who  was 
more  addicted  to  the  use  of  newspapers  than  books, 
blurted  out.  "Wby,  Brown,  what  an  ignoramus 
you  are !  Don't  you  know  that  the  Southern  States 
and  the  Government  are  going  to  have  a  war?" 

"No,  I  didn't,  and  don't  know  it  yet,"  said  Brown. 
"I  have  been  so  busy,  Beach,  that  I  have  given  but 
little  attention  to  other  matters,  and  it  was  a  mere 
accident  that  I  heard  what  I  have  told  you.  What 
is  the  cause  of  the  war,  if  there  is  to  be  a  war?" 

"Well,  Brown,  you  are  the  most  innocent,  if  not 
the  most  ignorant,  fellow  outside  of  a  prison  or  an 
asylum.  Why,  every  boy  in  the  country  knows 
tliat  there  is  to  be  war,  and  knows  the  cause,  too." 

"Then  post  me  up  on  these  matters,  Beach,  do." 

2 


18  THE  LAST  MAN 

"Well,"  began  Beach,  "the  trouble  originated 
long  ago,  when  the  State  of  Massachusetts  threat- 
ened to  resist  a  statute  of  the  United  States  because 
she  thought  it  detrimental  to  her  interests.  Later,  in 
1832,  South  Carolina,  under  the  leadership  of  a  dis- 
tinguished citizen,  tried  to  nullify  a  statute  of  the 
General  Government.  In  each  case  the  attempt 
failed,  but  the  notion  or  sentiment  which  prompted 
the  efifort  at  rebellion  did  not  die,  but  instead  took 
root  like  a  noxious  weed  in  a  fertile  soil,  and  grew 
up  into  a  doctrine  called  'State's  rights';  that  is, 
that  any  State  thinking  its  rights  tmder  the  Con- 
stitution have  been  violated  or  abridged  may  secede 
from  the  Union.  This  doctrine,  or  notion,  has 
been  advocated  and  approved  by  many  leading  men 
in  twelve  Southern  States,  seven  of  which  have 
already  enacted  an  ordinance  of  secession,  as  they 
call  it,  and  other  States  will  soon  follow.  Several 
United  States  Senators  and  Representatives  from 
these  States  have  left  Congress  and  gone  home  to 
assist  in  the  act  of  secession.  Quite  a  large  num- 
ber of  the  Army  and  Naval  officers  of  tlie  Govern- 
ment, educated  and  trained  at  public  expense,  under 
the  folds  of  the  flag,  have  deserted  and  gone  to  the 
ranks  of  secession.  The  cause  of  the  contention 
on  the  part  of  the  South,  under  their  doctrine  of 
State  rights,  is  negro  slavery.  They  insist  that  the 
Constitution  recognizes  and  protects  the  institution, 
and,  pushing  their  vantage  in  this  respect,  they 
have  secured  a  decision  from  the  Chief  Justice  of 
the  United  States  which  would  virtually  carry  slav- 


THE  BEGINNING  19 

ery  into  every  State  and  Territory.  All  this  the 
great  body  of  people  loyal  to  the  Government  deny 
and  oppose,  and  insist  that  the  'Union  is  one  and 
indivisible' ;  that  a  State  trying  to  get  out  shall  be 
compelled  to  stay  in  the  Union." 

"But  why  do  the  two  sections  not  compromise 
the  matter?"  queried  Brown.  "A  compromise 
would  surely  be  preferable  to  a  conflict." 

"Not  always,  and  perhaps  not  often,"  said  Beach. 
"Compromises  rarely,  if  ever,  settle  the  matters  in 
dispute.  At  the  best,  they  only  postpone  the  settle- 
ment to  a  future  time,  perhaps  to  a  future  genera- 
tion. Read  the  history  of  Europe  for  the  last  six 
centuries.  Alany  compromises  have  been  entered 
into,  but  every  now  and  then  each  matter  compro- 
mised has  reappeared,  like  a  very  ghost  of  Banquo. 
In  our  own  case  there  have  been  several  compro- 
mises within  the  last  thirty  years,  none  of  which 
have  attained  their  object,  until  now  neither  party 
thinks  of  further  compromise,  and  the  conflict  is 
inevitable." 

"Well,  if  it  must  come,"  said  Brown,  with  much 
spirit  and  emotion,  "I  am  for  the  Union  forever ! 
Three  cheers  for  the  Red,  White  and  Blue !" 

"There  spoke  a  patriot  and  the  son  of  a  patriot !" 
said  Beach.     "Shake  hands  on  it,  old  boy !" 

They  indulged  in  a  firm  hand  clasp  as  they 
reached  and  entered  the  college  chapel. 

The  chaplain  prayed  that  the  nation  might  be 
delivered  from  fratricidal  war ;    that  the  President 


20  THE  LAST  MAN 

and  Congress  might  be  endowed  with  wisdom  to 
see  and  pursue  the  path  of  duty,  and  that  the  people 
might  be  obedient  to  law  and  "lead  peaceable  and 
quiet  lives." 

He  then  announced  that,  as  the  signs  of  the  times 
betoken  serious  difficulty  in  the  near  future  be- 
tween the  Government  and  certain  of  the  States 
which  had  by  their  legislatures  passed  what  they 
called  an  ordinance  of  secession,  it  became  every 
young  man  to  read  and  study  events  as  published 
from  day  to  day,  and  solemnly  decide  what  would 
be  his  duty  if  war  should  come,  and  the  clash  of 
resounding  arms  be  heard  in  the  land. 

All  this  occurred  in  the  winter  of  1860-61.  The 
excitement  increased  each  day,  and  patriotism, 
Which  had  been  for  a  generation  previous  merely  a 
sentiment,  suitable  for  the  florid  efiforts  of  Fourth 
of  July  orators,  suddenly  became  a  real  thing,  a 
sun  whose  light  and  heat  irradiated  and  warmed 
into  life  every  State,  city,  hamlet,  and  country-side 
in  the  broad,  loyal  land.  "The  Union,  it  must  and 
shall  be  preserved !"  became,  in  feeling  as  well  as 
word,  the  motto  of  millions. 

It  needed  but  a  spark  to  fire  the  magazine. 

Meantime,  the  States  attempting  secession  had 
formed  a  bond  of  union  under  the  title  of  The  Con- 
federate States  of  America,  and  the  leaders,  in  imi- 
tation of  the  old  thirteen  colonies,  had  pledged  their 
lives,  their  fortunes  and  their  sacred  honor  to 
secure  independence  from  that  very  Union  which 
their  grandfathers  had  helped  to  frame.     The  blood 


THE  BEGINNING  21 

and  temper  of  the  Southern  people  were  super- 
heated, and,  from  their  point  of  view,  their  object 
would  soon  be  attained,  by  the  consent  of  the  Gov- 
ernment, or  by  force  of  arms. 

Thus  matters  stood  on  March  4,  1861,  when 
Abraham  Lincoln  took  the  oath  of  office  as  Presi- 
dent and  Commander-in-Chief  of  the  Amiy  and 
Navy  of  the  United  States.  During  the  few 
weeks  following,  the  Confederates  made  vigorous, 
rapid  and  effective  preparations  for  the  conflict, 
w'hich  they  now  saw  would  come ;  while  the  Gov- 
ernment and  the  loyal  people  of  the  North  sat  inac- 
tive, hoping,  wishing,  believing,  that  it  would  never 
come. 

On  April  12,  1861,  the  fatal  spark  reached  the 
magazine,  when  the  Confederates  fired  the  first 
gun  at  Fort  Sumter,  a  Government  fort. 

On  April  13,  President  I>incoln  called  for  seventy- 
five  thousand  volunteers  to  put  down  the  rebellion. 
His  proclamation  and  call  for  troops  was  read  to 
the  alumni  of  Magnolia  College  next  morning. 

The  President  of  the  College,  standing  before  the 
students  in  the  chapel,  said :  "Young  men,  the  hour 
has  come !  The  flag  is  insulted !  The  Union  is  in 
peril !  What  will  you  do  ?  Will  you  rally  in  their 
defense?  Are  you  ready,  now,  here?  If  so,  rise 
with  me !"  Every  man  rose !  Within  thirty  min- 
utes Mr.  Lincoln  was  reading  the  following  mes- 
sage :  "Two  full  companies  of  students  of  Mag- 
nolia College  volunteered  ten  minutes  ago.  We 
are  ready !     We  await  orders  !" 


22  THE  LAST  MAN 

One  of  these  young-  men,  Alfred  Boyd,  like  his 
fellows,  had  heard  the  bugle  calling 

"On  to  glory  or  the  grave  !" 

In  the  organization  of  the  two  companies  young 
Boyd  was  elected  to  a  lieutenancy.  He  was  so 
quiet,  so  manly,  so  generous,  and,  withal,  so  regard- 
ful of  the  rights  and  feelings  of  his  fellow-students, 
that  the  vote  was  unanimous. 

For  weeks  following  came  equipping,  drilling, 
and  other  preparations  for  the  trial  by  fire.  The 
Southern  troops  had  the  advantage  in  these  re- 
spects. They  were  at  home ;  knew  their  country 
well ;  were  acclimated ;  and  felt  that  their  blows 
would  be  in  defense  of  their  country  and  their 
homes. 

The  Government  troops,  on  the  contrary,  must 
be  marched  or  transported  hundreds  of  miles  to 
hostile  States,  ready  to  "receive  them  with  bloody 
hands  to  hospitable  graves."  They  must  become 
acclimated,  used  to  the  water,  and  adapted  to  many 
other  conditions.  They  were  strangers  to  the 
topography  of  the  country,  its  streams,  mountains, 
ravines,  and  strategic  points. 

A  great  mistake  had  been  made  by  the  people  of 
each  section.  The  Southern  people  thought  them- 
selves invincible,  because,  as  they  boastfully  put  it, 
"one  Southerner  could  whip  two,  three,  or  even  five 
Yankees." 

The  Northern  people,  so  strong  in  superior  num- 
bers, saw,  or  thought  they  saw,  peace  at  the  close 


THE  BEGINNING  23 

of  a  war  of  but  a  few  months'  duration ;  and  a 
very  distinguished  man  and  high  officer  of  the 
Government  proclaimed  that  the  war  would  be 
ended  within  ninety  days. 

Each  section  had  forgotten  that  the  people  of  the 
other  section  were  Americans.  Had  both  sections 
known  before  the  war  began  what  they  learned 
during  the  war,  it  would  never  have  begun. 

Who,  for  example,  saw,  or  even  imagined,  what 
a  war  would  cost  ? 

Who  thought  of  the  billions  of  money  and  prop- 
erty which  was  absolutely  lost  or  destroyed? 

Who  dreamed  of  the  wholesale  loss  of  half  a 
million  of  young  lives,  the  choicest  of  the  whole 
country?  Of  the  long,  sad  processions  of  marred, 
helpless,  broken-down  men  who  survived  the  war? 
And  of  the  still  greater  multitude  of  fathers, 
mothers,  sisters,  wives  and  children,  with  tear- 
stained  cheeks,  clad  in  the  habiliments  of  mourn- 
ing for  loved  ones  who  never  came  back? 

Who  foresaw  the  terrible  paralysis  of  nearly  all 
industrial  pursuits  and  interests ;  the  impairment 
of  public  morals ;  the  suspension,  if  not  the  death, 
of  churches,  schools,  societies,  and  scientific  efforts 
and  enterprises,  and  the  threatened  disruption  of 
those  ties,  and  the  abandonment  of  those  safe- 
guards, which  distinguish  civilized  from  savage 
life? 

Well  will  it  be  if  the  present  and  coming  genera- 
tions shall  learn  from  history  what  veterans,  both 


24  THE  LAST  MAN  <- 

North  and  South,  learned  from  experience,  that 
"war  is  cruel,"  unrelenting  and  destructive;  that 
it  should  never  be  invoked  unless  it  cannot  be 
avoided;  and  that  those  who  originated  and  pre- 
cipitated our  Civil  War  are  to  be  held  responsible 
for  its  irreparable  results  and  consequences. 


II. 

PRELIMINARY  ENGAGEMENTS. 

The  battles  of  1861  were  mere  skirmishes  com- 
pared with  many  that  followed.  Small  as  they 
were,  however,  they  were  of  the  greatest  use  to  the 
combatants  of  both  armies.  Through  these,  they 
saw  that  a  long  war  had  begun,  and  that  ultimate 
victory  would  be  won  by  the  force  which  could 
endure  longest.  Each  side  had  learned,  too,  that  it 
had  "a  foeman  worthy  of  its  steel."  During  the  win- 
ter of  1861-62,  the  energies  of  both  sections  were 
employed  in  arming  and  training  the  new  recruits, 
numbering,  on  both  sides,  hundreds  of  thousands. 
Occasionally  forays  and  raids  by  both  sides  varied, 
to  some  extent,  the  regular  round  of  camp  and 
garrison  duty.  What  follows  will  give  a  faint  idea 
of  many  incidents  that  occurred  during  that  winter. 

The  regiment  of  which  Lieutenant  Boyd's  com- 
pany formed  a  part  was  one  of  the  very  best  of  the 
many  splendid  regiments  from  his  State. 

In  the  fore  part  of  December,  a  Confederate 
colonel,  with  his  regiment  of  cavalry,  made  a  night 
attack  upon  a  camp  of  Union  soldiers  and  recruits 
at  Gramercy,  W.  Va^  captured  everything,  killed 
some  of  the  men,  and  paroled  the  rest ;  burnt  build- 
ings owned  by  loyal  people,  and  departed  before 
morning. 


26  THE  LAST   MAN 

Within  two  days  thereafter,  several  regiments  of 
Union  troops  arrived,  took  possession,  burned  sev- 
eral houses  of  disloyal  people,  and  went  into  winter 
quarters  at  the  town.  The  officers,  for  the  most 
part,  secured  boarding  with  resident  families,  most 
of  whom  were  of  Southern  proclivities. 

Lieutenant  Boyd  and  his  captain  boarded  with  a 
Mrs.  Lonj^ whose  family,  when  all  at  home,  con- 
sisted of  the  parents,  two  sons  and  a  daughter. 
This  family,  like  thousands  of  others  in  the  border 
States,  was  divided.  The  father  and  elder  son  had 
joined  the  Confederate  Army,  and  the  younger  son 
the  Union  Army.  The  mother,  like  any  mother  in 
similar  conditions,  had  sympathy  for  both  sides. 
The  daughter  was  an  out  and  out  Southern  girl. 
Nothing  could  daunt  her,  restrain  her  avowal  of 
devotion  to  the  Southern  cause,  or  mitigate  her 
dislike  for  the  old  Government  and  the  old  flag. 
And  of  all  sights  to  her,  the  most  disgusting  was  a 
blue  uniform  on  a  saucy  looking  Yankee. 

Beautiful  as  a  vision,  graceful  as  a  fawn,  and 
imperious  as  a  goddess,  her  wealth  of  raven  curls 
trembled,  her  full,  sparkling  eyes  danced,  and  her 
lithe  figure  swayed  vmder  the  dominating  emotions 
of  an  active,  restless  soul.  The  personification  of 
innocence,  she  knew  no  fear;  the  perfection  of 
nature's  handiwork,  she  was  unaware  of  her  beauty ; 
and  willing  and  anxious  even  to  assist,  if  she  might, 
the  cause  of  secession,  she  had  no  thought  or  sus- 
picion of  danger  to  herself  or  her  friends,  excepting 
her  mother,  between  whom  and  herself  there  existed 


PRELIMINARY  ENGAGEMENTS  27 

a  love  as  tender  and  self-sacrificing  as  that  of  Ruth 
and  Naomi,  and  as  potent  and  absorbing  as  the 
loves  of  angels !  No  joy  or  sorrow,  no  pain  or 
pleasure,  came  to  one  that  was  not  cheerfully, 
joyfully,  shared  by  the  other.  To  the  world  they 
were  merely  mother  and  daughter;  to  each  other 
they  were  lovers,  one  and  inseparable. 

Mrs.  Long  was  a  lady  by  birth,  by  nature,  and  by 
education.  The  child  of  an  ancient  family  of  royal 
old  Virginia,  she  had  been  sought  in  marriage  by 
many  choice  young  men,  of  wealth  and  high  social 
standing;  had  rejected  them  all,  and  married  her 
sweetheart, — for  love  and  comparative  poverty. 
But  she  had  never  regretted  the  step.  More  than 
twenty  years  of  wedded  life,  if  they  had  not  given 
her  wealth  and  social  position,  had  brought  her 
children, — her  jewels.  Now  this  cruel  war  was  on, 
and  the  family  was  disrupted.  Alena,  the  daughter, 
alone  was  left  for  her  to  look  upon,  care  for,  and 
love. 

In  addition  to  Lieutenant  Boyd  and  his  captain, 
half  a  dozen  or  more  other  officers  boarded  with 
Mrs.  Long,  to  whom  they  were  uniformly  kind  and 
courteous.  But  frequently  they  would  amuse  them- 
selves by  "stirring  up"  Miss  Long,  just  to  hear  her 
talk  of  the  Southern  cause,  and  its  ultimate  success. 
In  these  wordy  contests  Lieutenant  Boyd  never 
took  part,  but  secretly  sympathized,  not  with  the 
young  woman's  sentiments,  but  with  herself.  His 
was  a  noble  soul.  Youthful,  but  manly;  modest, 
but  firm ;    and,  though  thoroughly  devoted  to  his 


28  THE  LAST  MAN 

country  and  her  service,  he  was  yet  chivalrous  to 
woman,  because  of  an  innate  sense,  and  because  his 
mothers  and  sisters  were  women. 

With  the  intuition  of  her  sex.  Miss  Long  soon 
divined  that  the  Heutenant,  if  he  did  not  have  a 
special  interest  in  her,  was  at  least  moved  by  kindly 
feeling.  At  first  she  was  shy  of  his  regard,  which 
she  saw  was  his  secret.  It  was  now  hers  also.  He 
made  no  advances.  His  eyes  and  smiles  alone  told 
their  story ;  and,  cautiously,  her  eyes  and  smiles 
responded.  And  thus  a  species  of  comradery  grew 
up  and  continued  between  them  so  long  as  the 
troops  remained  in  quarters  there. 

In  the  latter  part  of  April,  1862,  orders  came  to 
prepare  for  a  forward  movement.  During  these 
preparations  it  became  known  throughout  the 
camp  that  an  old-fashioned  country  dance  was  to 
take  place  the  next  night,  at  a  house  on  the  bank 
of  the  Ohio  River,  about  a  mile  beyond  the  picket 
line.  Many  of  the  soldiers  were  seized  with  an 
insatiable  desire  to  attend  and  take  part  in  this, 
their  last  dance  perhaps. 

Of  all  amusements  among  young  people  of  many 
country  places,  the  most  fascinating  is  the  free 
and  easy,  noisy,  rustic  dance.  How  to  get  a  pass 
out  of  the  camp  was  the  difBcuIty.  Once  out  of 
camp,  the  getting  into  camp  again  might  take  care 
of  itself.  At  length,  two  men  applied  to  their  cap- 
tains for  a  "pass"  to  go  out  that  evening  to  say 
"good-bye"  to  some  relatives  who  lived  about  a 
mile  down  the  river.     The  captain  referred  them  to 


PRELIMINARY  ENGAGEMENTS  29 

the  colonel,  who,  without  inquiry,  gave  them  a  pass. 
Presently  other  men  came,  by  twos,  threes,  and 
even  fours,  to  go  out  and  see  relatives  who  lived 
about  a  mile  up  the  river,  a  mile  back  from  the 
river,  or  across  the  river,  until  thirty  or  more  men 
had  gone  out,  when  the  colonel,  surmising  that 
something  was  afoot,  said  to  the  next  squad  that 
presented  itself :  "It  seems  to  me  that  all  you  men 
have  relatives  hereabouts.  Now,  tell  me  the  whole 
truth,  or  not  a  man  of  you  shall  go  out." 

They  told  him  all,  and,  on  giving  them  passes, 
he  ordered  them  to  return  to  camp  not  later  than 
ten  o'clock,  and  to  tell  the  men  already  there  to 
come  to  camp  by  that  hour.  Of  course,  when  ten 
o'clock  came,  not  a  man  was  back.  Eleven,  twelve 
o'clock  came,  but  not  one  of  the  absentees  had 
returned. 

The  colonel  had  been  deceived  and  was  mad.  He 
decided  to  punish  the  boys  by  giving  them  a  scare 
which  would  return  them  to  camp  at  "double  quick," 
and  would  serve  as  a  lesson  for  future  emergencies. 
There  was  a  gallant,  daring  Confederate  trooper  in 
command  of  a  body  of  cavalry,  or  horsemen,  armed, 
numbering  from  one  to  three  hundred  men,  whose 
haunts  were  up  toward  the  foot-hills,  several  miles 
distant,  whose  business  was  to  harass  the  Union 
troops,  and  capture  such  of  them  as  he  might 
pounce  upon  when  they  least  expected  him.  He 
was  known  to  all  the  soldiers  by  the  name  of 
"Clawhammer,"  from  the  cut  of  his  coat.  A  veri- 
table bugaboo  to  all  the  soldiers  was  he,  and  one 


30  THE  LAST  MAN 

of  the  nightly  instructions  to  the  men  on  picket 
duty  was — "and  look  out  for  Clawhammer." 

The  colonel  stole  to  the  quarters  of  Lieutenant 
Boyd,  commanding  the  company  (as  the  captain 
was  sick),  and  wakened  him ;  ordered  him  to  get 
out  his  company,  equipped  with  guns  and  cartridge 
boxes,  within  ten  minutes ;  and  to  do  all^this  with- 
out speaking  or  permitting  the  men  to  speak, 
except  in  low  whispers.  The  order  was  obeyed. 
The  colonel  and  the  lieutenant,  followed  by  the 
company,  then  marched  quietly  out  of  camp,  and, 
when  a  furlong  or  more  distant,  halted.  The  object 
of  the  movement  was  then  explained.  The  house 
wherein  the  dance  was  in  progress  was  to  be  sur- 
rounded on  the  south  and  western  sides,  while  the 
northern  side  was  bounded  by  the  bank  of  the 
river,  and  the  eastern  side,  the  one  looking  up  the 
river  toward  the  camp,  was  to  be  left  free  for  the 
truants  to  escape  capture,  if  they  so  desired. 

When  called  upon  to  surrender,  if  they  should 
be  slow  about  it,  the  company,  imder  strict  orders, 
were  to  fire  their  pieces,  elevated,  so  that  no  one 
should  be  injured.  On  being  satisfied  that  the  men 
understood  their  duty  perfectly,  the  company  was 
marched  to  a  point  some  two  hundred  yards  dis- 
tant from  the  house,  deployed  as  skirmishers,  and 
thrown  forward  to  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the 
house,  within  which  "all  went  merry  as  a  marriage 
bell."  The  squeaking  of  a  fiddle,  the  calling  of  the 
figures  by  the  floor  master,  the  stamping  of  feet, 
the  movements  of"  the  dancers,  and  the  shouts  and 


PRELIMINARY  ENGAGEMENTS       31 

laughter  of  men  and  women  presented  a  scene  of 
the  most  rollicking,  roysterous  enjoyment  and 
abandon. 

Now  comes  the  man  with  a  powerful  bass  voice, 
who  had  been  coached  to  impersonate  the  Confed- 
erate night  rider.  He  shouts  :  "Halt  there  !  Stop 
that  noise  and  come  out  and  surrender,  'Yanks,' 
and  do  it  quick !  I'll  give  you  another  kind  of  a 
dance!  You've  invaded  the  Sunny  South.  You 
shall  dance,  away  down  in  Dixie.  You  want  to 
know  who  I  am,  eh?  You've  heard  of  'Clawham- 
mer.' Well,  he  is  here  with  lots  of  company.  Ar'n't 
you  coming  out?  Then  take  what  you'll  get!  Bat- 
talion !  ready,  aim,  fire !"  A  widespread  blaze,  a 
deafening  report,  and  then  quickly  came  the  order, 
"Fire  at  will !  fire !"  Then  ensued  that  patter  of 
musketry  with  which  every  veteran  is  familiar. 
What  occurred  in  the  house?  At  the  first  fire  the 
lights  went  out,  and  a  ludicrous  scene  followed. 
Chairs  and  tables  tumbled  on  the  floor;  men 
scrambled  to  get  out,  women  shrieked,  and  prayers 
and  oaths  mingled  as  the  place  of  exit  was  sought 
in  the  darkness.  And  still  that  awful  voice  without 
was  shouting,  "Don't  take  any  prisoners !" 

At  last  the  door  in  the  end  of  the  house  toward 
the  camp  was  found  and  flung  wide  open,  and  a 
seething  mass  of  humanity,  men,  women  and  chil- 
dren, tumbled  out  pell-mell  over  each  other.  From 
out  the  mass  darted  a  blue-coat,  then  another,  then 
others,  and  sprang  away  at  highest  speed  toward 
the  camp.     Some  were  coatless,  some  hatless,  and 


32  THE  LAST  MAN 

others  shoeless,  but  they  all  went,  nor  did  they 
"stand  upon  the  order  of  their  going." 

The  role  of  the  Confederate  trooper  was  finished, 
and  was  a  complete  success,  emptying  the  house 
without  an  encore,  or  a  request  for  repetition.  The 
colonel  narrowly  escaped  discipline  by  a  court  mar- 
tial for  his  "night  attack"  without  orders  from  his 
superior  officer;  but  one  good  result  came  of  it — 
during  all  their  marches,  battles,  and  sieges  for  the 
next  three  years,  no  one  of  that  regiment  ever  again 
took  the  risk  of  capture  that  had  been  taken  by 
those  fun-seeking  fellows  on  that  beautiful  April 
night. 

The  day  came,  the  hour  was  at  hand,  when  the 
camp  would  be  left,  and  the  troops  gone. 

When  the  officers  sat  down  at  Mrs.  Long's  table 
to  eat  for  the  last  time.  Lieutenant  Boyd  found  a 
tiny  envelope  beneath  his  plate.  Deftly  pocketing 
it,  he  hastily  ate,  and  went  to  his  quarters.  Open- 
nig  the  envelope,  he  read : 

"I  care  nothing  for  these  other  officers,  nor  for 
your  soldiers,  but  a  friend  hopes  that  you  may  get 
back  again,  unharmed.  Alena." 

That  was  all,  but  the  man  placed  the  little  scrap 
of  paper  in  the  most  secret  part  of  his  pocket-book, 
and  often,  when  far  away,  he  would  fish  out  of  its 
hiding  place  the  kindly  little  message,  read  and 
replace  it,  and  ponder  and  imagine.  Just  before 
the  troops  moved  he  returned  to  Mrs.  Long's  to 


PRELIMINARY  ENGAGEMENTS  33 

say  "good-bye."  She  had  gone  out  to  some  neigh- 
bors, and  Alena  was  alone,  except  a  servant. 

He  said  hurriedly,  "We  shall  be  off  within  an 
hour.  Where  is  your  mother?"  The  servant  was 
sent  to  bring  her.  He  timidly  slipped  a  note  into 
her  hand  which  she  quickly  hid  on  her  person. 
"Read  it  after  we  are  gone,"  said  he.  Mrs.  Long 
came,  good-byes  were  said  and  handshakes  given, 
and  he  was  gone. 

Alena  went  to  her  room  on  some  pretext,  opened 
his  note  and  read : 

"Miss  Long:  I  thank  you  for  your  interest  in 
me.  I  feel  that  we  shall  meet  again.  Till  then, 
farewell!  Boyd." 

i 

What  a  prediction !  When,  where,  and  under 
the  control  of  which  of  the  fates  should  they  ever 
again  meet?  She  hid  the  paper,  as  a  girl  would, 
and  never  dared  to  mention  it,  even  to  her  mother. 

Was  she  right? 


III. 

WAR  IN  EARNEST. 

The  regiment  of  which  Lieutenant  Boyd's  com- 
pany formed  a  part  was  attached  to  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac,  whose  organization,  equipment  and 
personnel  made  it  the  most  noted  body  that  had 
ever  trod  the  Western  world.  All  it  needed  to 
become  the  pride  and  glory  of  the  Government 
that  had  created  it  was  to  achieve  victories, — fre- 
quent and  decisive.  The  country  was  doomed  to 
disappointment.  The  campaign  on  the  peninsula, 
the  seven  days'  battles  before  Richmond,  the  sec- 
ond battle  at  Bull  Run,  and  that  at  Fredericksburg 
were  all  disastrous,  and  the  engagements  at  Sharps- 
burg  and  Antietam  were  little  better  than  drawn 
battles. 

About  July  first.  Lieutenant  Boyd  was  promoted 
to  the  captaincy  of  his  company,  the  former  cap- 
tain having  died  of  fever  contracted  in  the  early 
summer.  In  this  new  and  most  important  relation 
to  the  company  he  was  the  same  brave,  considerate 
man,  and  was  the  idol  of  his  men.  Into  the  battles 
of  Sharpsburg  and  Antietam  he  fearlessly  led  them 
in  charges,  and,  when  all  was  over,  devoted  himself 
night  and  day  to  the  care  and  treatment  of  his  sick 
and  wounded.  Soon  after,  about  October  first,  he 
received  a  telegram  to  come  home  with  all  speed, 


W/.R  IN  EARNEST  35 

to  see  his  father  die.  A  furlough  for  thirty  days 
was  granted,  and  he  arrived  at  home  just  in  time 
to  be  recognized  by  the  dying  parent. 

Remaining  at  home  almost  his  full  time,  he  gave 
himself  to  soothing  and  solacing  his  mother  and 
sisters,  and  effecting  arrangements  for  their  com- 
fort and  safety.  Thus  far  he  had  escaped  untouched 
in  fierce  battles,  while  many  of  his  comrades  in 
arms  had  "fought  their  last  battle,"  and  others  had 
been  maimed  and  injured,  so  that  they  were  unfit- 
ted for  further  service  at  the  front. 

All  honor  to  these.  Crown  with  laurel  the  brows 
of  those  who  lost  a  limb,  or  were  otherwise  injured 
by  deadly  missiles  in  their  first  battle,  perhaps,  so 
that  they  could  no  longer  take  active  part  in  the 
gigantic  conflict. 

But  the  question  has  been  asked,  whether  or  not 
these  are  the  real  heroes  of  the  war. 

What  shall  be  said  of  those  who  stood  up  to  be 
shot  at  in  scores  of  hot  engagements,  and  gave 
blow  for  blow;  who  suffered  from  cold,  hunger, 
thirst,  exposure,  disease,  and  a  hundred  other  unto- 
ward conditions,  and,  at  the  close  of  a  long,  faith- 
ful, victorious  service,  came  home  without  a  wound, 
but,  in  thousands  of  cases,  were  physical  and,  fre- 
quently, mental  wrecks?  These  are  the  men  who 
won  the  victories,  and  let  a  grateful  country  never 
forget  to  crown  them  also.  Let  equal  and,  in  some 
cases,  superior  honors  be  shown  to  such  as  bore 
"Old  Glory"  to  the  summit  of  Lookout  Mountain ; 
fought  their  way,  foot  by  foot,  through  an  entire 


36  THE  LAST  MAN  '  , 

summer,  to  Atlanta,  which  they  invested  and  cap- 
tured ;  then,  divided  into  two  confident  veteran 
bodies,  one  pushed  boldly  through  Georgia  to  the 
sea,  while  the  other,  retracing  its  route  of  the  pre- 
ceding months,  fell  back  to  Nashville  and  waited 
for,  met,  and  annihilated  the  army  of  the  gallant, 
impetuous  Confederate  General  Hood.  These  are 
men,  who,  by  their  deeds  of  daring  and  valor, 
induced  the  white-winged  Angel  of  Peace  to  return 
again  to  earth ;  men  whose  grandparents  wove  and 
flung  forth  "the  banner  of  beauty  and  glory,"  and 
these,  their  sons,  received  and  defended  it  from  the 
dust,  and  from  dishonor. 

Having  parted,  sadly,  it  must  be  said,  from 
mother  and  sisters.  Captain  Boyd  boarded  a 
steamer  bound  for  Galliput,  a  Government  post 
and  rendezvous,  at  which  point  he  would  embark 
on  another  steamer  plying  between  Galliput  and 
Charlesport,  on  the  Kanoche  River,  beyond  which 
point  his  command  then  lay. 

Landing  at  Galliput,  he  went  to  a  hotel,  had  sup- 
per, and  then,  as  was  his  duty,  reported  to  the 
officer  in  charge  of  the  post,  and  returned  to  his 
hotel.  Occupying  a  chair  in  front  of  the  house, 
among  guests  and  others,  his  ear  soon  caught  por- 
tions of  a  heated  conversation  going  on  in  a  little 
knot  of  civilians.  "All  I  have  to  say,"  growled 
one,  "is  that  she  ought  to  be  hung-."  "O  no,"  said 
another;  "she  is  a  woman,  and  I  take  no  stock  in 
a  man  that  would  hang  a  woman."  "Then  you 
ought  to  be  hung  with  her,  as  a  sympathizer,"  said 


WAR  IN  EARNEST  37 

the  first.  "What  has  she  done  to  deserve  hanging?" 
aslced  the  second.  Here  a  third  man  made  answer, 
"She  is  a  notorious  rebel.  They  say  she  had  a 
hand  in  planning  that  massacre  of  recruits  at 
Gramercy  last  December;  that  she  wrote  letters 
which  were  smuggled  to  the  Confederate  force, 
telling  them  when,  where,  and  how  to  make  an 
attack ;  and  that  she  tried  to  poison  a  lot  of  officers 
who  were  boarding  with  her  mother  last  winter." 
"How  do  you  know  she  did  these  things?  Who 
says  she  did?"  asked  the  second.  "If  these  things 
are  true,  why  don't  they  try  her  on  charges  pre- 
ferred?   Let  the  woman  have  a  chance,  I  say." 

To  all  this  talk  Captain  Boyd  was  keenly  alive. 
Going  to  the  hotel  keeper,  he  asked  what  woman 
was  a  prisoner  in  the  county  jail,  and  from  what 
place  she  came.  The  hotel  man  said  her  name 
was  Long ;  that  she  lived  down  at  Gramercy,  Va. ; 
that  she  was  reported  to  be  a  Confederate  spy. 

Strolling  forth,  Boyd  directed  his  steps  toward 
the  jail,  found  the  sheriff,  and,  after  preliminary 
civilities,  asked  him,  "Who  is  the  woman  from 
Gramercy,  Va.,  that  is  in  jail?" 

Said  the  sheriff,  "Her  name  is  Long." 

"When  was  she  brought  here?" 

"Looking  at  his  register,  the  sheriff  answered, 
"Twelve  days  ago." 

"Who  brought  her?     Was  there  a  guard?" 

"Yes;  two  soldiers." 

"Were  there  any  other  prisoners?" 

"Yes;  two  men." 


38  THE  LAST  MAN 

"Is  the  guard  here?" 

"No,  they  left  the  next  morning,  with  the  wagon 
that  brought  the  prisoners  here." 

"What  charges  were  preferred  against  the 
woman  ?" 

"None,  so  far  as  I  know." 

"Did  you  not  receive  a  paper  of  some  description, 
committing  her  to  jail,  and  commanding  you  to 
keep  her  here  in  custody?" 

"None,"  said  the  sheriff. 

"Then  why  do  you  keep  her  locked  up?" 

"That  was  the  order  given  by  the  guard." 

"Can  I  see  her?"  asked  the  captain. 

"Who  are  you?"  asked  the  sheriff. 

Boyd  presented  his  card  to  the  sheriff. 

"That  will  do;  you  may  see  her,"  said  the  sheriff. 

Leading  the  way,  the  sheriff  thrust  a  key  into  a 
lock,  opened  the  door,  and,  going  in,  lit  a  lamp  in 
the  room,  said  "Come  in,"  and  then  retired  to  the 
door  as  the  captain  entered. 

It  was  a  small,  square  room,  with  a  low  ceiling 
and  but  one  window,  and  that  grated.  A  cracked 
mirror,  an  old  wash-stand,  a  three-legged  stool, 
and  a  low,  narrow  cot  in  the  corner  were  the  fur- 
nishings. An  old-time,  much-worn  oilcloth  carpet 
bag  was  the  only  receptacle  for  clothing. 

On  a  stool,  with  her  back  toward  the  door,  her 
head  bent  forward,  and  her  face  resting  between 
the  palms  of  her  hands,  sat  the  prisoner.  Her 
radiant  curls,  quite  disheveled,  hung  down,  cover- 
ing the  sides  of  her  face.     The  captain  spoke  her 


WAR  IN  EARNEST  39 

name,  "Miss  Long!"  Springing  to  her  feet,  and 
turning,  she  rushed  toward  him  with  outstretched, 
imploring  hands,  and  in  a  voice  of  joy  and  sobs 
commingled,  and  tears  springing  in  her  eyes,  she 
cried  out:  "Oh,  Lieutenant,  you  here?  You  said 
we  would  meet  again.  Why  have  you  come? 
Where  are  you  from?  I  thought  you  and  your 
soldiers  were  away  down  in  old  Virginia."  Thus 
she  ran  on,  half  dazed,  and  not  waiting  for  an 
answer  to  her  questions,  while  her  face,  eyes,  lips, 
attitude,  and  all  else,  made  her  for  the  time  an 
emphasized,  illuminated  interrogation  point.  Seat- 
ing her  on  the  stool,  he  told  his  entire  story ;  where 
he  had  been  and  what  he  had  seen,  done  and  suf- 
fered, from  the  time  they  said  good-bye  at  her 
mother's  house  until  he  returned  to  Galliput  and 
learned  of  her  imprisonment. 

"Now  tell  me,"  said  he,  "of  your  mother  and 
yourself,  and  how  you  came  to  get  into  this  trou- 
ble." 

"O,  it's  so  unpleasant  to  think  of,"  said  she,  "that 
I  dislike  to  tell  it." 

"But  let  me  insist,"  said  he.  "I  want  to  know 
who  is  the  author  of  such  a  foul  proceeding,"  and 
his  face  and  eyes  betokened  hottest  anger. 

"Well,"  said  she,  "last  month,  as  Colonel  Jame- 
son's cavalry  were  returning  to  Virginia  from  their 
raid  over  into  Ohio,  they  came  in  haste  to  Gra- 
mercy,  and  begged  the  people  for  something  to  eat, 
and  feed  for  their  horses.  They  were  Confeder- 
ates, you  know.     We  gave  them  all  we  had  but  a 


40  THE  LAST  MAN 

few  handfuls  of  flour.  Suddenly,  while  they  were 
eating,  the  rattle  of  guns  was  heard  at  the  edge  of 
town,  and  our  men  left  as  fast  as  they  could,  for 
the  Yankees  were  pursuing  them.  When  the 
Yankee  cavalry  galloped  into  town,  and  found  that 
the  game  had  escaped,  their  commander,  General 
Baxter,  was  furious,  and  swore  that  his  men  should 
stay  until  they  had  eaten  the  people  out  of  house 
and  home.  An  under  officer,  a  sergeant,  I  believe, 
and  ten  men  came  to  our  house  and  asked  us  to 
feed  them.  Mother  showed  him  our  scanty  pro- 
vision, and  told  him  that  was  all  we  had  left,  and 
for  him  to  search  the  house,  if  he  thought  she  was 
not  telling  the  truth.  Mother  looked  so  distressed 
that  I  stepped  up  and  said,  'Please  go  away,  and 
do  not  annoy  us  any  more ;  we  are  not  keeping  a 
hotel." 

"They  went,  but  in  a  few  minutes  another  set 
came  to  arrest  me;  they  said  it  was  by  General 
Baxter's  order.  'What  have  I  done?'  asked  I. 
'Don't  know,'  said  the  man  at  their  head,  'but  we 
must  obey  orders.'  They  told  me  to  be  ready  in 
ten  minutes,  to  be  taken  away  from  town.  Mother 
was  crushed,  and  cried  as  I  had  never  heard  her 
cry  before.  She  plead  and  prayed  them,  if  they 
must  punish  me,  so  be  it,  but  for  her  sake  not  to 
separate  us.  All  in  vain.  The  man  told  me  the 
ten  minutes  would  soon  be  up.  and  I  must  go.  I 
told  mother  I  would  better  go,  for  if  we  should 
resist  they  might  burn  the  house  or  kill  us.  I 
seized  that  old  carpet-bag,  into  which  I  had  only 


WAR  IN  EARNEST  41 

time  to  thrust  a  few  things,  when  the  man  took 
it  up,  and  said,  'Come  on.'  Mother  and  I  kissed 
and  cried  and  embraced,  till  the  man  grasped  my 
arm  and  said,  'Stop  this,  and  come  on,  I  say.'  So 
I  started  without  having  time  to  change  clothes, 
and  came  wearing  this  black  calico  dress,  and  that 
old  black  poke  bonnet.  Mother  followed.  They 
hurried  me  to  the  landing  at  the  wharf,  and  ordered 
me  and  two  men,  whose  hands  were  tied,  to  get 
into  a  skifT.  Two  of  the  soldiers  with  their  guns 
and  things  got  in,  too,  and  ordered  the  boatman  to 
row  over  to  the  Ohio  shore.  As  we  rowed  away, 
the  last  thing  I  saw  and  heard  was  mother  weep- 
ing and  wringing  her  hands."  Here  Miss  Long 
broke  down  and  cried  as  if  broken-hearted. 

After  a  time  she  continued :  "When  we  reached 
the  shore,  one  of  the  guards  took  possession  of  an 
open  two-horse  wagon,  with  its  horses  and  driver, 
told  us  to  get  in,  and  then  ordered  the  driver  to 
head  for  Galliput,  and  drive  fast  enough  to  make 
the  distance  before  morning.  It  was  now  dark, 
O  what  a  horrible  night  that  was !  I  shall  never 
forget  it.  The  other  prisoners  and  the  two  guards 
sat,  or  lay,  in  the  body  of  the  wagon,  while  I  sat 
upon  the  seat  by  the  driver,  who  kindly  permitted 
me  to  do  so.  He  drove  fast,  and  at  break  of  day 
we  reached  this  town,  and  drove  to  this  house — the 
common  jail. 

"The  guards  aroused  the  jailer,  and  ordered  him 
to  take  us  and  keep  us  safe  under  lock  and  key,  until 


42  THE  LAST  MAN 

further  orders.  The  sheriff  asked  them  who  sent 
us,  and  what  for.  They  said  it  was  by  the  order  of 
General  Baxter,  at  Gramercy,  Va.,  but  that  they 
didn't  know  what  we  were  arrested  or  sent  there 
for.  The  sheriff,  after  thinking  the  matter  over, 
told  us  to  get  out  of  the  wagon,  brought  us  intO' 
the  jail,  and  put  me  into  this  room,  and  here  I 
have  been  ever  since." 

As  the  hour  was  now  very  late,  and  he  wished 
some  time  for  reflection,  the  captain  called  the 
sheriff,  to  whom  he  said :  "I  know  this  young 
woman  and  her  mother,  and  am  one  of  the  of^cers 
that  boarded  at  their  house  last  winter.  They  are 
eminently  respectable  people,  and  this  is  a  false 
imprisonment,  without  a  charge  or  pretext,  and 
without  a  trial  or  even  a  commitment.  I  vouch 
for  her.    You  have  my  card." 

The  sheriff  read  the  card,  and  said,  "Well,  Cap- 
tain, I  am  glad  you  take  the  responsibility  of  order- 
ing her  release.  Will  you  have  her  removed  to- 
night?" 

"No,  I  think  not,"  said  Captain  Boyd.  "It  is 
very  late,  and  I  think.  Miss  Long,  you  had  better 
stay  here  overnight,  if  you  will." 

"O,  yes,"  said  she,  "though  I  am  so  tired  of  this 
room." 

"Sheriff,"  said  Boyd,  "can't  you  give  her  a  decent 
room  for  the  night,  and  a  good  breakfast  in  the 
morning,  at  my  expense?" 

"Certainly  I  can,  and  will." 


WAR  IN  EARNEST  43 

"Very  well,"  said  Boyd.  "And  you,  Miss  Long, 
try  to  have  a  good  night's  rest,  and  you  will  feel 
much  better  in  the  morning.  I  will  be  here  about 
nine  o'clock,  and  we  will  finish  this  business.  Good 
night.     Good  night.  Sheriff." 


IV. 

DELIVERANCE. 

As  soon  as  the  captain  was  gone,  the  sheriff 
brought  his  wife  to  Miss  Long  to  assist  in  remov- 
ing her  belongings  to  a  room  above  stairs.  The 
change  was  soon  made,  and  Alena  had  a  large,  airy, 
well-furnished  apartment.  The  good  housewife 
was  very  kind,  speaking  of  her  sympathy  for  the 
girl,  and  her  mother,  and  her  sadness  over  the  loss 
of  fathers,  husbands,  and  sons  of  her  neighbors, 
until  tears  streamed  down  her  kind,  womanly  face. 

When  she  retired,  Alena  was  again  alone,  but  not 
a  prisoner.  She  was  unable  to  sleep  for  hours. 
Deliverance  had  come,  and  in  what  a  strange  way. 
The  face  of  her  mother,  sad,  disconsolate,  as  she 
last  saw  it,  was  ever  before  her.  One  other  face 
came  before  her,  now  and  then — that  of  Captain 
Boyd.  He  must  be  one  of  God's  noblemen,  sent 
at  times  to  earth  to  show  to  the  world  and  to  all 
men  what  they  might  be  and  ought  to  be.  And 
she  who,  until  a  few  months  ago,  had  fairly  hated 
Yankees,  now  secretly  rendered  her  heart's  homage 
to  this  member  of  the  hated  race.  One  thing  she 
felt  to  be  true — a  man  might  be  a  Yankee  and  yet 
be  an  honorable,  high-minded,  courteous  gentle- 
man. Why  should  he  take  such  an  interest  in  her, 
a   poor   little   mite    of   humanity,   without   wealth, 


DELIVERANCE  45 

social  position,  or  influence?  Could  it  be? — oh, 
no — perish  the  thought — it  could  not  be — that  he 
was  beginning  to  love  her.  No ;  this  kindness,  this 
great  service,  was  but  the  normal  emanation  of  a 
noble  soul.  He  would  have  done  the  same  for  any 
other  woman,  young  or  old,  married  or  single.  She 
slept  at  last,  and  her  dreams  were  of  her  mother 
and  the  captain. 

She  awoke  late  next  morning,  but  much  re- 
freshed, and  full  of  hope  and  expectancy.  When 
the  daily  steamer  came  down  the  Ohio,  she  would 
board  it,  and  be  at  home  in  a  few  hours.  But, 
alas !  she  had  not  one  poor  penny  with  which  to 
pay  the  passage  money.  She  would  go  aboard  the 
boat,  though,  and  pledge  payment  when  they 
reached  Gramercy.  The  housewife  came  and  led 
her  down  to  breakfast — the  first  meal  she  had 
enjoyed  for  a  fortnight. 

Then  came  Captain  Boyd,  and,  by  suggestion 
and  kindly  invitation,  they  went  to  the  parlor,  and 
the  "business"  of  the  preceding  evening,  as  he 
called  it,  was  resumed. 

'T  hope  you  had  a  good  night's  rest,  Miss  Long." 

"Oh,  yes,  it  was  exquisite.  Captain  Boyd." 

"Did  these  folks  treat  you  well?" 

"Yes,  with  the  greatest  of  kindness,  and  sympa- 
thy for  mother  and  me,  which  they  could  not  show 
while  I  was  a  prisoner." 

"Well,  you  are  free  now.  Miss  Long;  but  if  you 
will  permit,  I  will  stay  about  and  see  you  safe  on 
the  steamer  which  is  to  carry  you  home.     There 


46  THE  LAST  MAN 

is  no  telling  what  might  happen  if  you  were  left  to 
get  to  the  boat  alone.  Such  talk  as  I  heard  in 
front  of  the  hotel  last  night,  before  I  found  you, 
assures  me  that  some  of  those  heroic  fellows,  who 
take  precious  good  care  to  keep  out  of  hearing  of 
the  music  of  flying  bullets,  are  just  the  kind  of  fel- 
lows to  give  trouble  to  a  defenseless  young  woman, 
if  they  should  get  such  a  thing  into  their  heads." 

"Thanks,  Captain,  I  shall  be  still  more  obliged 
to  you,  then,  if  you  will  assist  me  to  get  off.  But 
please  don't  let  my  affair  interfere  with  your  duties." 

"Not  at  all.  Your  boat  is  due  here  at  one 
o'clock,  and  mine  doesn't  leave  until  five.  So  I'll 
see  you  safe  on  your  voyage."  He  ventured  a 
remark  which  was  not  very  sagacious :  "I  suppose 
you  are  quite  anxious  to  get  home." 

"O,  Captain  Boyd,  how  can  you  ask  such  a 
question?  What  sort  of  a  girl  would  it  be  that 
would  not  be  anxious  to  get  home,  under  such  cir- 
cumstances?" 

"And  how  do  you  think  your  mother  will  receive 
you?"  said  he. 

"As  though  I  had  been  lost  and  was  found.  As 
though  I  had  been  dead  and  was  suddenly  restored 
to  life.  As  though  I  had  come  back  to  her  from 
heaven !  O,  Captain,  but  few  girls  have  mothers 
such  as  mine!" 

"You  do  love  your  mother  as  I  never  before  saw 
a  child  do,  and  I  honor  you  for  it,  with  all  my  head 
and  heart.  And  what  do  you  and  she  propose  to 
do  when  you  are  settled  again?" 


DELIVERANCE  47 

"Really,  I  don't  know,"  said  Alena ;  "furnish 
boarding,  I  suppose." 

"But  there  are  no  people  at  Gramercy  now  who 
require  boarding.  The  soldiers  are  gone,  the  boat- 
men are  gone,  all  are  gone,  except  a  few  old  men 
and  young  boys." 

"I  don't  know  what  we  shall  do  then,  if  that  is 
the  case.  O,  did  I  tell  vou,  Captain,  that  father  is 
dead?" 

"No,  you  hadn't  mentioned  it." 

"Yes,  he  died  at  Richmond,  in  July,  of  a  wound 
received  at  a  place  called  Fair  Oaks,  I  think." 

"Ah,  I  was  in  that  battle,"  said  Boyd,  "and  a 
fierce  one  it  was.  And  your  brother,  Bertrand, 
where  is  he?" 

"The  last  I  heard  of  him  he  was  in  Brecken- 
ridge's  division  of  General  Lee's  army.  Why  do 
you  ask.  Captain?  Do  you  know  anything?"  As 
she  said  this  she  gave  him  a  piercing,  anxious  look. 

"O,  no;  you  recall  that  your  father  and  Bertrand 
had  joined  the  Confederate  Army  before  we  came 
to  Gramercy,  last  fall,  and  I  thought  you  might 
have  heard  from  him  since  that  time.  Now,  Miss 
Long,  excuse  me  for  an  hour  or  more,  while  I  go 
to  the  commandant  of  the  post  and  arrange  matters 
so  that  we  can  leave  this  afternoon.  I  shall  return 
just  after  dinner;  and,  by  the  way,  you  must  have 
dinner,  too."  Walking  briskly  to  the  room  where 
the  sheriff  was,  he  spoke  of  the  matter,  and  it  was 
so   arranged. 

Returning  to  the  voungf  woman,  he  told  her  of 


48  THE  LAST  MAN 

the  arrangement,  then  reported  at  the  office  of  the 
commandant,  and  procured  a  p£.ss  for  her.  Then 
visiting  a  store,  he  bought  a  first-class  lady's  valise, 
and  had  it  sent  to  the  jail  for  Miss  Alena  Long, 
with  the  sheriff's  family.  After  dinner  at  the  hotel 
he  went  to  his  room,  prepared  a  large  envelope, 
put  within  it  a  valuable  enclosure,  and  a  short  note, 
sealed,  and  thrust  it  into  his  breast  pocket,  and 
returned  to  the  sheriff.  The  wife  met  him  with  a 
genial,  but  quizzical,  smile,  and  Miss  Long  with  a 
very  subdued  one. 

"Who  is  the  present  for,  eh,  Captain  ?"  asked  the 
wife. 

"For  Miss  Long,"  said  he. 

"O,  Captain  Boyd,  please  don't,"  said  Miss  Long. 
"The  carpet-bag  will  do." 

"No  indeed.  Miss  Long,  it  shall  remain  here  a 
prisoner  as  long  as  the  sheriff  sees  fit.  Take  the 
valise  to  your  room  and  fill  it,  I  command  you !" 

Mutely,  but  hesitatingly,  she  obeyed,  and  while 
transferring  things,  the  boat  blew  a  signal  of  her 
approach,  and  the  young  woman  came  down  to  the 
parlor.  Going  to  the  sheriff,  Boyd  asked  for  her 
bill. 

"Nothing,"  said  the  sheriff;  "I  am  very  glad  to 
show  kindness  to  Miss  Long,  and  that  we  bear  no 
ill  will  against  her.  I'll  have  the  valise  carried  to 
the  boat.  And,  young  woman,  if  you  ever  come 
this  way  again,  you  shall  have  better  treatment." 

"Indeed  shall  you,"  chimed  in  the  wife,  and  she 
folded  her  arms  round  Alena,  and  kissing  her  said. 


DELIVERANCE  49 

"That  is  for  your  mother,"  and  again,  "and  that  is 
for  yourself." 

By  this  time  the  boat  was  rounding  in  at  the 
landing,  farewells  were  said,  the  servant  took  up 
the  valise,  and  the  captain  and  Miss  Long  followed 
and  boarded  the  steamer.  Seating  her  in  the 
ladies'  cabin,  Boyd  went  to  the  purser's  office,  paid 
her  fare  to  Gramercy,  including  supper  and  a  state- 
room, and  returned  to  her.  "Now,  Miss  Long," 
said  he,  'T  think  I  have  done  all  I  can,  except  to 
give  you  this  parcel,  which  I  request  you  not  to 
open  till  you  reach  home.     Do  you  promise?" 

"Certainly,  I  promise.  Captain  Boyd." 

Passing  the  envelope  to  her,  he  suggested,  "Go 
and  lock  it  up  in  your  valise,  just  now." 

She  obeyed,  and  then  said,  "O,  Captain  Boyd, 
how  can  I  ever  thank  yovi  enough,  much  less  pay 
you,  for  all  your  kindness?" 

She  could  say  no  more,  but  tears,  not  of  sadness, 
but  gratitude,  sparkled  in  her  eyes. 

"Say  nothing  about  it,"  said  he;  "I  have  done 
nothing  more  than  I  could  wish  any  true  man  to 
do  for  my  sister,  were  she  in  trouble.  That  repays 
me.  Give  my  best  wishes  to  your  mother,  and  be 
assured  I  remain  her  and  your  friend.     Good-bye." 

As  he  walked  forward  toward  the  gangway,  he 
turned  for  a  moment  and  saw  her  going  to  her 
state-room.  A  look  was  in  his  eloquent  eyes,  of 
which  he  was  unconscious,  and  which  he  would 
not  have  confessed  to  himself,  even ;  a  look  of  pure 
and  ineffable,  but  repressed,  love.  At  five  o'clock 
4 


50  THE  LAST  MAN 

he  boarded  the  steamer  for  the  Kanoche  River  and 
Charlesport. 

As  the  water  in  the  Ohio  River  was  very  low, 
the  steamer  bearing  Miss  Long  to  Gramercy  made 
slow  progress,  and  did  not  reach  the  town  till  eight 
o'clock,  and  when  she  stepped  ashore  there  were 
no  people  in  waiting  but  the  wharf-master  and  his 
assistant.  Recognizing  her,  they  came  forward 
and  spoke  to  her.  "Miss  Long,  do  you  want  your 
valise  carried  to  the  house?"  asked  the  assistant. 

"Yes,  please,  but  I  have  no  money  to  pay  for 
such  service,"  she  answered. 

"Never  mind  that,"  said  he;  "we  are  awful  glad 
to  see  you  back  again  safe.  Heard  you  were  going 
to  be  shot  for  a  spy.  And  then  we  heard  you  were 
dead.  O,  mighty  souls !  but  your  mother  will  be 
glad  to  see  you.  They  say  she's  done  nothin'  but 
rock  herself  and  cry,  ever  since  you  were  tooken 
away,  and  some  say  as  how  she  was  mighty  nigh 
crazy.  And  no  wonder,  the  way  they  sarved  you, 
and  all  because  old  Baxter  was  mad  and  drunk." 

Thus  he  chattered  all  the  way  to  her  mother's 
door. 

Alena  rapped,  the  door  opened,  and  mother  and 
daughter  w^ere  face  to  face.  With  a  loud  cry,  "O, 
daughter !  My  heart's  idol !"  the  mother  clasped 
the  girl  in  her  hungry  arms,  and  kisses  and  tears 
rained  on  each  other's  lips  and  cheeks. 

"Home  again !"  What  a  boon  is  it  to  the  trav- 
eler after  months  of  long,  wearisome  journeyings. 
"There's  no  place  like   home !"     But  how  much 


DELIVERANCE  51 

greater  the  joy  of  a  return  to  home  and  mother 
was  that  of  Miss  Long,  from  both  of  which  a  cruel 
fate  had  so  suddenly  snatched  her! 

At  length,  becoming  calmer,  Alena  gave  a  full 
account  of  her  imprisonment  and  deliverance.  As 
she  related  the  acts  of  Captain  Boyd  the  mother 
looked  apprehensive,  and  the  daughter,  under- 
standing the  look,  said,  "O,  mother,  pray  don't 
misjudge  him !  He  is  the  grandest,  most  honor- 
able man  I  ever  saw.  We  need  never  fear  him. 
He  has  a  widowed  mother  and  two  sisters,  to 
whom  he  is  enthusiastically  devoted.  He  is  a 
Yankee,  it  is  true,  and  an  officer — a  captain  now, 
and  you  know  how  I  have  hated  Yankees ;  but  I 
now  know  he  is  a  gentleman,  a  gallant  knight, 
such  as  we  read  of,  and  I  dare  say  a  splendid  soldier, 
even  if  he  is  against  our  cause.  O,  by  the  way,  he 
gave  me  an  envelope  which  I  was  not  to  open  till  I 
got  home.  Let  me  get  it."  Unlocking  the  valise, 
she  drew  forth  the  bulky  packet,  and,  on  opening 
it,  there  lay  a  quantity  of  bank  notes,  bright  and 
crisp — a  considerable  sum.  The  sight  paralyzed 
both  tongues  for  some  moments. 

Her  mother  said,  "Alena,  dear,  tell  me  all !  All !" 

"O,  mamma,  don't  look  at  me  that  way  so 
cruelly!  Wait  till  I  read  his  note."  Unfolding  it, 
she  read : 

"'Hotel,   Galliput,   O., 

October  20th,  1862. 

My  Dear  Mrs.  Long: — Enclosed  please  find  a  small 
sum  of  money  which  I  can  loan  you  for  a  while, 


52  THE  LAST  MAN 

just  as  well  as  not.  I  wish  it  were  larger.  It  may 
be  of  use  to  you,  just  now,  as  times  are  hard.  And, 
Miss  Long,  I  once  predicted  that  we  should  meet 
again.  We  met.  I  now  prophesy  that  we  shall 
meet  again.     Till  then,  farewell,  Boyd.' 

"There  now,  mother,  you  have  a  true  illustration 
of  the  man.     What  do  you  think?" 

"Alena,  dear,  he  loves  you.  Tell  me  whether  he 
said  or  did  or  looked  anything  that  showed  special 
regard  for  you." 

"Nothing,  mother ;  not  even  the  tiniest  pressure 
of  my  hand  when  we  parted.  No,  mamma,  he 
respects  and  pities  us — that  is  all." 


V. 

THE  WRESTLING  OF  GIANTS. 

Captain  Boyd's  return  to  his  company  was  sig- 
nalized by  hearty  hand  grasps  and  expressions  of 
gladness  from  every  member,  which  to  a  man  of 
his  mold  was  of  more  value  than  the  elaborate  com- 
pliments of  his  fellow-officers.  Who  that  was 
entrusted  with  the  duties  and  cares  of  commandant 
of  a  company  of  soldiers  did  not  realize  keenly  and 
sometimes  painfully  that  perfect  confidence  on  the 
part  of  the  men  in  his  courage,  abihty,  justice  and 
kindness,  is  the  one  indispensable  condition  to  his 
confidence  in  the  company,  enabling  him,  at  all 
times,  and  under  most  crucial  tests,  to  secure  and 
enforce,  not  merely  willing,  but  enthusiastic,  com- 
pliance with  orders  and  commands? 

Among  many  distinguished  officers  of  all  ranks, 
in  both  armies,  one  there  was,  who  has  answered 
to  the  last  roll-call,  in  whom  was  exemplified,  in 
the  highest  degree,  that  indefinable,  but  potent, 
influence  over  men,  which  every  officer  should 
strive  to  gain.  By  acts  of  kindness  and  considera- 
tion, and  little  courtesies,  which  an  officer,  even  of 
high  rank,  may  perform  in  the  midst  of  his  duties 
as  a  commander  and  disciplinarian,  he  so  won  the 
confidence  and  devotion  of  subordinates  and  men 
that,   had   he   issued   an   order  to   march   straight 


54  THE  LAST  MAN 

through  the  Confederacy  to  Charleston  or  Savan- 
nah, every  officer  and  man  would  have  sprung  to 
his  place  with  the  liveliest  enthusiasm,  with  the 
light  of  battle  on  his  face,  and  determination  to  exe- 
cute the  order  or  die  in  the  attempt.  All  officers 
and  men  who  had  the  honor  to  serve  under  that 
distinguished,  intrepid  officer  will  recognize  in  this 
description  the  late  Major-General  George  Crook. 

Of  a  similar  type  must  have  been  Generals  Crom- 
well, Bonaparte,  Wellington,  Washington,  Lee,  and 
Stonewall  Jackson.  Such  a  man,  and  such  an  offi- 
cer, to  a  degree,  was  Captain  Boyd.  He  felt,  and 
determined,  more  than  ever  before,  that,  come  what 
might,  the  proper  care  of  his  men  should  be  second 
only  to  the  cause  of  his  country. 

In  these  respects  what  a  contrast  he  presented  to 
scores  of  officers,  whose  first  care  was  of  their  own 
precious  persons  and  interests,  and  their  last 
thought  was  of  men  and  country.  Disguise  it, 
ignore  it,  deny  it,  even,  yet  the  truth  remains  that 
a  larger  per  cent,  of  incompetency  and  recreancy 
prevailed  among  officers  than  among  enlisted  men ; 
and  had  the  issue  of  the  conflict  depended  on  men 
as  demoralized  as  were  many  officers,  it  may  well 
be  doubted  whether  victory  had  ever  been  achieved. 

In  the  winter  of  i862-'63,  the  command  of  which 
Captain  Boyd's  company  was  a  part  was  quartered 
in  the  Valley  of  Virginia,  at  a  town  noted  for  its 
alternate  occupancy,  many  times,  by  the  forces  of 
both  armies,  and  for  its  final  permanent  posses- 
sion by  the  Union  forces,  late  in  the  fall  of  1864, 


THE  V^RESTLING  OF  GIANTS  55 

after  the  destruction  of  the  army  of  General  Early. 
During  this  winter  the  men  knew  better  than  before 
how  to  render  themselves  comparatively  comfort- 
able. When  not  on  duty,  in  camp,  on  guard,  or 
under  training,  their  time  was  spent  in  writing  let- 
ters to  home  folks,  relating  stories  or  gossip,  sing- 
ing, and  playing  games.  Bye  and  bye,  tokens  of 
coming  spring  were  visible,  and  the  great  armies 
on  both  sides  hastened  their  preparations  for  the 
year's  campaigns.  Novv^  and  then  small  bodies  of 
troops,  mostly  cavalry,  made  reconnoissances  to- 
ward the  lines  of  the  enemy  to  ascertain  his  exact 
v.'hereabouts  and  his  condition.  Picket  firing  was 
frequent.  Prisoners  were  brought  in.  Quarter- 
masters' and  ordnance  stores  were  replenished. 
Hospital  supplies  were  overhauled  and  put  in  order. 
Men  were  clad  anew,  and  both  they  and  horses 
were  freshly  shod. 

The  campaign  began  by  a  movement  of  the 
Union  Army.  The  corps  in  the  valley  broke  camp 
in  April  and  marched  to  Washington,  crossed  the 
Potomac,  and  traversed  the  hills,  valleys  and 
streams  of  old  Virginia  till  it  reached  and  was 
made  an  integral  part  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac. 
About  May  first  that  great  body  arose,  shook 
itself,  put  on  its  panoply,  and  moved  straight  at  its 
enemy,  fortified  and  waiting  for  it.  Each  army 
had  tested  the  courage  and  powers  of  its  opponent, 
and  the  marvelous  skill  of  its  commander,  on  sev- 
eral notable  occasions,  and  the  Union  force  had 
been  obliged  to  show  its  back  to  the  foe  and  retreat 


56  THE  LAST  MAN 

almost  to  the  environs  of  the  Capital.  But  now 
that  its  movements  were  to  be  directed  by  a  gen- 
eral known  by  both  armies,  and  by  the  world,  as  an 
eminent  soldier  and  fighter,  the  country  expected, 
and  confidently  looked  for — victory. 

A  military  campaign — a  battle,  if  not  an  acci- 
dent— is  a  great  game  played  by  two  men,  the 
commanders  of  the  opposing  forces.  Neither  com- 
mander, nor  any  one  else,  sees,  or  can  see,  all  of  a 
battle.  The  commanders  issue  orders ;  subordi- 
nates carry  the  orders  to  officers  in  command  of 
divisions,  brigades  and  regiments ;  and  the  men, 
commanded  by  these,  execute  the  orders,  perform 
the  maneuvers,  and  do  the  marching,  fighting,  and 
charging,  with  which  they  are  so  occupied  as  to  be 
unable  to  see  only  what  is  directly  before  them.  If 
the  maneuvers,  the  fighting,  the  irrepressible 
charge,  or  the  sudden,  unlooked-for  attack  upon 
the  opponent's  flank  is  successful,  defeat,  total  or 
partial,  is  inevitable,  and  he  is  obliged  either  to 
retreat,  thus  losing  the  field,  or  reform  his  line  in 
such  manner  that  he  may  renew  the  battle.  The 
flank  movement,  as  it  is  called,  was  employed  four 
times,  at  least,  in  a  certain  battle ;  the  contending 
forces  revolving  about  each  other  until  they  had 
fought  toward  every  point  of  the  compass,  and 
finally  each  force  withdrew  from  the  field,  as  if  by 
mutual  consent. 

Frequently,  however,  an  army  thus  flanked  has 
been  disorganized,  pursued,  and  almost,  if  not  com- 
pletely,   annihilated.     The    seven    days'    battle    of 


THE  WRESTLING  OF  GIANTS  57 

General  McClellan  in  June,  1862 ;  the  second  battle 
of  Bull  Run,  in  August,  1862;  and  of  General  Lee, 
in  September,  1862,  and  July,  1863,  are  examples 
of  successful  retreat  and  re-formation  of  an  army 
when  defeated,  or  worsted.  The  campaign  of  Gen- 
eral Early,  in  October,  1864,  and  of  General  Hood, 
in  December,  1864,  are  examples  of  the  destruction 
of  an  army,  pursued  and  disintegrated,  after  a  lost 
battle. 

The  battle  of  Chancellorsville,  Va.,  was  fought 
on  May  5th  and  6th,  1863,  by  the  Confederate 
Army  of  Northern  Virginia,  commanded  by  Gen- 
eral Lee,  and  the  Union  Army  vmder  General 
Joseph  Hooker.  The  plan  of  each  general  showed 
consummate  skill,  and,  as  the  action  progressed, 
the  advantage  was  clearly  with  General  Hooker. 
But,  late  in  the  evening  of  May  6th,  when  the  day's 
fighting  was  apparently  over,  and  the  Union  force 
was  disposing  itself  for  a  night's  bivouac,  suddenly 
a  solid,  resolute  Confederate  force  struck  it  on  its 
right  flank,  with  the  resistless  might  of  a  tornado. 
There  was  no  withstanding  its  momentum.  The 
attacking  force  was  that  of  the  redoubtable  Stone- 
wall Jackson.  The  Union  Army  was  thus  beaten 
again,  and  retreated  across  the  Rappahannock 
River  toward  Washington. 

Captain  Boyd's  company  and  regiment  were  a 
part  of  the  corps  which  received  the  assault  result- 
ing so  disastrously.  While  exerting  himself  to  the 
utmost,  by  voice,  daring  and  example,  to  hold  his 
company  steady,  to  resist  and  stay  the  charge  of 


58  THE  LAST  MAN 

the  enemy,  he  suddenly  felt  a  sharp  but  paralyzing 
sensation,  fell  helpless,  and,  his  line  being  broken, 
the  men  retreated ;  a  moment  later,  the  Confeder- 
ate force  reached  and  passed  him,  and  he  was  a 
prisoner. 

When  the  charge  was  done,  his  captors  raised 
him  upon  his  legs,  and  caused  him  to  walk  to  the 
rear  of  their  lines,  when  they  relieved  him  of 
sword,  belt  and  revolver.  The  firing  was  still  in 
progress,  but  he  knew  by  the  distance  and  decrease 
of  the  volume  of  sound  that  his  own  army  was  still 
retreating.  For  the  first  time  in  his  career  hope 
fled  from  his  heart.  The  racking  pain  from  a 
wound  in  his  right  side,  loss  of  blood,  intense  hun- 
ger and  thirst  and  extreme  fatigue  wrought  com- 
plete physical  exhaustion.  To  be  made  a  prisoner 
is  bad ;  to  be  wounded,  and  yet  be  rescued  and 
cared  for  by  one's  friends  is  serious ;  but  to  be  both 
wounded  and  a  prisoner  is  enough  to  beget  deplor- 
able mental  exhaustion.  Such  was  his  condition 
when,  led  to  a  rude  field  hospital,  he  was  permitted 
to  lie  down  and  receive  a  drink  of  water  from  a 
canteen. 

As  he  lay  there,  indulging  in  his  sad  reveries, 
there  arose,  at  some  distance,  a  low,  agonizing 
moan  or  cry,  apparently  from  hundreds  of  lips, 
and  Boyd  forced  himself  to  sit  up,  to  ascertain  the 
cause  of  this  outcry.  Presently  he  saw,  coming 
through  the  darkness,  a  mass  of  men,  in  disorder, 
and  in  their  midst  the  body  of  some  one  borne  on  a 
stretcher.     The  carriers  halted  and  set  their  burden 


THE  WRESTLING  OF  GIANTS  59 

down,  within  a  few  feet  of  him.  There  were  two 
or  more  surgeons  in  charge,  who  dispersed  the 
crowd  so  that  the  dying  man  might  have  plenty  of 
fresh  air.  Just  then,  by  the  flickering  light  of  a 
couple  of  torches,  he  saw,  for  the  first  and  last  time, 
the  pallid  face  of  General  Jackson,  who  had  been 
mortally  wounded,  just  after  his  corps  had  com- 
pleted its  savage  and  successful  attack  upon  the 
Union  force.  Reverently,  touchingly,  with  un- 
covered heads,  his  heartbroken  men  again  moved 
on  with  the  helpless  body  of  the  man  who  had  been 
the  most  versatile,  daring,  competent,  and  success- 
ful of  all  Confederate  commanders.  His  death, 
soon  after,  equaled  the  loss  of  thousands  of  men  to 
the  Confederates,  and  was  a  correspondingly  great 
gain  to  the  Union  cause.  The  troops  he  had  com- 
manded remained  brave,  it  is  true,  but  never  again 
did  they  display  the  qualities  for  which,  under  him, 
they  had  been  so  widely  distinguished. 

In  addition  to  his  ability  as  a  soldier.  General 
Jackson  was  noted  for  high  qualities  as  a  citizen 
and  a  Christian  man. 

When  the  lives  and  deeds  of  men  shall  have  been 
canvassed  in  Heaven's  high  court,  and  each  shall 
receive  his  reward,  "according  to  the  deeds  done  in 
the  body,"  who  dare  say  that  he  will  not  sit  down 
in  the  realm  of  eternal  peace  with  Grant,  Sherman, 
Lincoln,  and  Howard? 

After  this  touching  episode  had  passed,  a  Con- 
federate hospital  officer  and  two  attendants,  with 
a  lantern,  paper  and  pencil,  came  to  the  captain  to 


60  THE  LAST  MAN 

register  his  name,  rank,  company,  and  regiment, 
and  to  take  an  inventory  of  his  effects.  When 
about  to  answer  the  first  question,  his  sight  failed, 
and  unconsciousness  ensued.  He  had  fainted. 
What  transpired  thereafter,  that  night,  and  for 
several  days  and  nights  folloAving,  Vv^as  unknown  to 
the  poor  suffering  officer.  Wound  fever,  and  affec- 
tion of  the  nerve  centers,  brought  on  first  a  coma- 
tose state,  then  delirium,  then  raving.  The  hospital 
officer  reported  the  case  to  the  superior  surgeon, 
who  at  once  made  an  examination.  A  ball  had 
struck  and  penetrated  the  captain's  right  side,  just 
above  the  sword-belt,  fractured  two  ribs,  and  was 
lodged  somewhere  in  the  cavity  of  the  chest.  To 
find  the  ball  and  the  full  extent  of  its  damage,  the 
surgeons  were  obliged  to  make  a  large  transverse 
incision  below  the  short  ribs.  This  effected,  the 
ball  was  found  wedged  between  two  ribs  on  the 
posterior  side  of  the  chest,  and  was  extracted.  It 
was  also  found  that  the  liver,  though  not  lacerated, 
had  been  somewhat  impinged  upon.  The  neces- 
sary measures  were  taken,  appliances  were  adapted 
to  the  wound  and  the  incision,  and  an  attendant 
was  left  Vvuth  the  patient  to  carry  out  the  instruc- 
tions. When  the  morning  came,  several  wounded 
Confederate  officers  in  the  hospital  were  dead,  and 
the  preparations  for  their  sepulture,  together  with 
the  moanings  of  those  still  living,  the  odor  of  medi- 
cinal and  surgical  preparations,  and  the  presence 
of  villainous  looking  instruments  lying  about,  con- 
spired to  render  the  place  a  not  unfitting  supplement 


THE  WRESTLING  OF  GIANTS  61 

to  Dante's  Inferno.  From  all  of  this  the  captain 
was  mercifully  spared,  as  he  remained  unconscious, 
contributing  his  share  of  the  audible  indications  of 
pain  and  delirium  prevailing  on  every  side. 

The  attendant  and  the  surgeon  in  whose  ward 
he  lay  failed  to  understand  most  of  the  sufferer's 
incoherent  words  and  fragments  of  sentences. 

Only  two  expressions,  often  repeated,  were 
understood:  "Mother,  don't  worry!"  and  "Miss 
Long!   Miss  Long!   Why  do  you  suffer  thus!" 


VI. 

IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY. 

One  of  the  few  features  that  mitigated  the  hor- 
rors of  the  war,  aside  from  the  services  of  the  Sani- 
tary Commission  and  the  Christian  Commission, 
was  the  voluntary  and  heroic  service  of  a  number 
of  noble  women,  some  older,  some  younger,  as 
army  hospital  nurses.  It  may  be  that,  in  some 
cases,  these  duties  were  assumed  in  order  that  the 
nurses  might  be  near  those  they  loved,  who  were 
in  the  saddle,  or  the  ranks,  so  that  should  they  be 
prostrated  by  wounds  or  diseases,  they  might 
receive  superior  care  and  nursing.  But  in  most 
cases,  the  motive  of  these  women  was  entirely 
unselfish, — a  combination  of  patriotism  and  philan- 
thropy,— and  their  noble  sacrifices  shone  as  a  bril- 
liant, self-supporting  light,  dispelling,  in  a  degree, 
the  gloom  of  fratricidal  war.  Of  this  honored  class, 
the  patron  saint,  if  she  may  be  so  called,  is,  by 
common  consent,  Florence  Nightingale,  who  with 
a  corps  of  assistants  gave  herself  to  such  a  holy  work 
during  the  Crimean  War,  in  1855-  56,  and  demon- 
strated, beyond  question  or  cavil,  the  practicability, 
utility,  and  humanity  of  woman's  work  in  hospitals. 
Perhaps  the  Red  Cross  Society,  at  whose  head 
stands  that  noble  woman,  Clara  Barton,  is  in  part 
a  result  of  Miss  Nightingale's  first  endeavor.    Who 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY  63 

knows  but  that,  in  the  near  future,  such  women  as 
these  may  exert  an  influence  potent  enough  to 
prevent  war,  or  at  least,  to  remove  many  of  its 
horrors?  However  all  this  may  be,  there  were 
from  1862  to  the  close  of  the  war  quite  a  number 
of  women  serving  as  nurses  in  hospitals  in  and 
near  Washington  and  Alexandria,  and  with  armies 
in  the  field.  There  were  also  women  nurses  in 
Confederate  hospitals — women  whose  motive  and 
heroism  were  the  same  as  those  of  the  Union 
nurses. 

On  the  second  day  after  the  battle  several  Con- 
federate women  nurses  from  Richmond  came  to 
the  field  hospital  for  duty.  With  soft,  quiet  step, 
they  moved  from  one  sufiferer  to  another,  minis- 
tering as  occasion  required,  bathing  the  face  and 
hands  of  one,  combing  the  matted  locks  of  another, 
feeding  one  who  was  permitted  to  eat,  giving  medi- 
cines to  others,  as  directed,  wTiting  letters  for  those 
who  could  not  write,  and  even  holding  instruments 
and  anaesthetics  for  surgeons  when  operations  were 
performed.  By  chance,  it  would  seem,  a  young 
woman  who  was  performing  such  functions  entered 
the  ward  in  which  lay  Captain  Boyd.  Reaching,  in 
her  progress,  the  cot  of  a  wounded  Confederate, 
she  did  him  some  kindness,  and  was  about  to  move 
on,  when,  from  a  cot  a  few  yards  distant,  a  moan 
caught  her  ear  and  attention.  Could  it  be — O, 
surely  it  could  not  be — he?  She  moved  nearer. 
Heaven  help  him !  It  was  Captain  Boyd — the 
Yankee  officer!     But   so   changed,   so   pale,   and, 


64  THE  LAST  MAN 

withal  unconscious  and  delirious !  The  young 
woman  was  Miss  Long!  They  had  met  again! 
He  had  predicted  it !  But  what  a  meeting !  She, 
when  last  they  parted,  was  a  happy  girl  delivered 
from  prison  and  duress  by  him,  the  gallant,  buoy- 
ant Union  officer.  Now  he  is  a  prisoner  and  suf- 
ferer, unconscious,  and  unable  to  help  himself,  and 
she  can  assist,  if  not  deliver,  him.  Who  can  de- 
scribe the  torrent  of  emotions  by  which  she  was 
moved  at  that  moment? 

Loyalty  to  the  South,  and  her  pledge  to  support 
and  promote  its  cause  would  lead  her  away  from 
him  to  minister  to  suffering  Confederates.  Grati- 
tude, and  another  yet  stronger  sentiment,  would 
draw  her  to  him.  Which  will  she  do?  Will  she 
hesitate?  Would  you,  right-minded  young  lady 
reader,  hesitate?  Your  head  might  suggest,  "Pass 
him  by !  He  is  nothing  but  a  hateful  Yankee." 
But  your  heart  would  say,  "What !  Pass  Jiini  by  ? 
Never!"  So  was  it  with  Miss  Long.  There  was 
no  debate  in  her  mind,  and  no  hesitation  in  her 
actions.  A  man's  head  may,  and  often  does,  rule 
him,  or  he  thinks  so ;  a  woman's  heart  rules  her. 

"O  woman!  In  our  hours  of  ease. 
Uncertain,  coy,  and  hard  to  please! 
Let  pain  or  sorrow  rack  the  brow, 
A  ministering  angel,  thou!" 

She  applies  a  wet  towel  to  his  face  and  hands, 
fans  him,  feels  his  quick  fluttering  pulse,  places 
water  to  his  parched  lips,  and  finds  and  puts 
another  pillow  beneath  his  head.     Those  who  saw 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY      65 

her  thus  engaged  may  have  thought  she  was  sur- 
prised to  see  a  Yankee  there ;  or  that  his  moanings, 
tossings,  and  ravings  moved  her  to  pity  for  him. 
Either  of  these  things  might  arrest,  or  hold,  for  a 
few  moments,  the  attention  of  a  nurse  who,  so  far 
as  the  other  nurses  and  attendants  knew,  had  never 
before  seen  a  Union  officer  or  soldier.  But  for  her, 
far  more  important  and  touching  considerations 
controlled  both  heart  and  hand. 

So  long  did  she  linger  by  the  captain's  cot,  that 
the  attention  of  all  who  were  near  was  drawn  to 
her;  glances  were  exchanged,  and  whispered 
remarks  were  made  as  to  her  sudden  and  evident 
devotion  to  this  prisoner,  an  enemy  of  hers  and 
theirs.  One  of  the  nurses  reported  the  matter  to 
the  surgeon  whose  duties  brought  him  to  that  por- 
tion of  the  hospital,  and,  coming  near,  he  asked 
her  why  she  did  not  move  on  to  relieve  others — 
Confederates,  in  particular.  On  his  face,  and  in 
his  face,  as  he  spoke,  were  distrust  and  appre- 
hension that  something  was  wrong  with  her; 
either  she  was  suffering  from  dementia,  or  she 
was  a  Union  spy  in  disguise.  His  words  and 
looks  aroused  her.  With  crimsoned  cheeks,  tear- 
dimmed  eyes,  and  tremulous  voice,  but  with 
intense,  quiet  energy,  characteristic  of  her,  she 
replied :  "Doctor,  this  man  is  an  enemy  of  the 
South,  it  is  true;  he  is  a  Yankee  officer;  but  I 
knew  him  at  my  old  home  in  West  Virginia,  and, 
next  to  my  mother,  while  living,  he  was  the  best 
friend   I    ever   had,   and   the   noblest   man   I    ever 


66  THE  LAST  MAN 

knew.  O,  Doctor,  please  examine  his  case  thor- 
oughly and  tell  me  truly  what  his  condition  is,  and 
I'll  tell  you  all  hereafter!" 

What  a  scene  for  a  hospital,  wherein  all  emotions 
are  suppressed,  and  all  expressions  are  cautious 
and  subdued !  Moved  by  her  words  and  tears,  the 
surgeon  examined  the  wound  and  its  condition, 
the  pulse,  respiration  and  symptoms,  and  then, 
looking  at  her,  as  she  stood  some  distance  aside,  in 
great  agitation,  ominously  shook  his  head,  and 
turned  to  depart.  She  rushed  to  him,  and  said, 
with  hands  clinched  together :  "O,  Doctor,  he 
must  not  die !  Let  me  do  all  I  can,  and,  please, 
will  you  do  all  you  can,  to  save  his  life?" 

The  surgeon  said  "Yes"  as  an  answer  to  both 
her  requests,  and  directed  the  other  nurses  to  "let 
Miss  Long  have  her  way,  as  it  would  all  be  over 
in  a  few  hours  at  most." 

All  that  day,  and  the  night  following,  she  clung 
to  that  spot,  devising  and  doing  whatever  she 
thought,  or  imagined,  m^ight  bring  relief  to  the 
sufferer.  And  when  morning  dawned  Captain 
Boyd  still  lived,  though  very  weak  and  exhausted, 
and  yet  raving  in  delirium.  The  surgeon  made 
his  morning  visit  much  earlier  than  usual,  expect- 
ing to  find  nothing  except  a  body,  dead  and  cold ; 
but,  instead,  to  his  great  surprise,  the  patient  was 
alive,  and  the  devoted  nurse  was  still  at  her  post, 
apparently  fresh  and  vigorous.  The  surgeon 
directed  her  to  go  and  rest  for  a  few  hours,  and  he 
would  personally  care  for  the  patient  in  her  absence. 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY      67 

Thus  adjured,  she  reluctantly  retired  to  a  small 
dwelling  house,  at  some  distance,  appropriated  to 
the  use  of  lady  nurses,  flung  herself  upon  a  rude 
couch,  and  ere  long  tired  nature  asserted  her  sway, 
and  she  slept  for  several  hours,  a  troubled,  dream- 
disturbed  sleep.  On  waking  a  torrent  of  memories 
and  emotions  overwhelmed  her.  What  if  he  had  died 
while  she  slept?  She  could  never  forgive  herself. 
Dressing  hastily,  and  attended  by  the  colored  boy, 
without  waiting  for  breakfast,  she  hastened  to  the 
hospital.  As  she  entered,  a  number  of  nurses  and 
attendants  fixed  upon  her  a  steady  and  significant 
gaze.  This  she  regarded,  obviously,  as  an  evil 
omen.  But  a  nurse  hastened  to  her,  and  said :  "The 
Yankee  is  still  alive,  but  he  is  very  weak.  I  don't 
think  he  can  live  the  day  out." 

She  answered  not,  but,  pushing  by,  she  was  soon 
by  the  sufferer's  side.  He  was  still  in  a  stupor,  but 
had  ceased  raving.  She  repeated  all  those  little, 
delicate  offices  so  natural  to  a  woman,  and  finished 
by  giving  him  a  small  supply  of  stimulant  and 
liquid  nourishment,  and  very  soon  he  fell  into  a 
sound  natural  sleep.  Returning  to  her  quarters, 
she  tidied  herself,  had  breakfast,  and  came  again. 

She  met  the  surgeon,  who  was  waiting  for  her. 
"I  have  seen  him,"  said  he,  "and  am  bound  to  say 
that  all  his  symptoms  are  more  favorable,  and  if 
the  improvement  continues  for  two  days,  he  will 
recover." 

"Thanks  for  your  opinion,  Doctor,  and  may 
Heaven   grant  that   your  judgment  shall   be   cor- 


68  THE  LAST  MAN 

rect !  And  may  I  continue  to  wait  on  and  nurse 
him?" 

"Yes,"  said  he;  "I  have  given  orders  to  the  hos- 
pital steward  that  you  alone  shall  nurse  him.  I 
am  curious  to  see  how  the  case  will  terminate." 

"Tihank  you  again,  Doctor,  and  be  assured  that 
nothing  shall  be  wanting  on  my  part  to  have  the 
case  terminate  in  his  recovery.  And  whether  he 
recovers  or  dies.  Doctor,  I  shall  owe  it  to  you,  to 
the  hospital,  to  our  cause,  to  him,  and  to  myself, 
to  tell  you  why  I  have  seemed  to  act  so  singularly." 

Several  days  passed  in  this  manner;  the  fever 
and  delirium  diminished,  then  ceased,  and  suddenly 
Boyd  returned  to  consciousness.  Looking  about 
him,  he  motioned  an  attendant  to  come  to  him, 
and  asked  where  he  was,  how  long  he  had  been 
there,  and  why,  and  how  much  longer  he  was 
likely  to  remain.  The  attendant  readily  answered 
all  inquiries  but  the  last,  which  he  said  the  doctor 
alone  could  answer,  if  any  one  could. 

"Go,  please,  and  tell  one  of  them  I  want  to  see 
him."  The  attendant  complied,  and  soon  the  sur- 
geon-in-chief came. 

"Doctor,  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Boyd.  "I 
dare  say  I  have  given  you  a  deal  of  trouble  since 
I  came,  but  I  assure  you  I  am  quite  willing  to  end 
the  trouble  as  soon  as  you  will  permit,  and  assist 
me  to  get  away." 

"My  dear  sir,"  said  the  surgeon,  "you  must  be 
in  no  hurry.  You  have  just  emerged  from  a  fear- 
ful delirium,  and  have  survived  the  shock  and  loss 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY  69 

of  blood  from  your  wound  in  a  most  remarkable 
manner,  and  I  want  you  to  recover  fully  before 
you  leave  us.  You  are  not  yet  out  of  danger,  and 
even  now  your  pulse  and  temperature  are  rising 
rapidly,  and  you  must  cease  talking  for  the  remain- 
der of  the  day.  To-morrow,  if  you  continue  toi 
improve,  we  will  resume  this  conversation.  For 
the  present,  be  quiet,  and  sleep,  if  possible." 

The  thinking  and  talking  had  worried  Boyd,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  he  fell  asleep.  Miss  Long,  by 
advice  of  the  surgeon,  as  well  as  from  native  shy- 
ness, kept  out  of  the  way  the  remainder  of  the 
day,  and  for  a  day  or  two  later.  But  the  next  day 
Boyd  was  entirely  sane,  and  was  so  much  im- 
proved, in  all  respects,  that  the  surgeon  permitted 
him  to  reopen  the  conversation  of  the  day  pre- 
vious. 

"By  the  way.  Captain,  I  have  not  been  able  to 
secure  your  name,  regiment.  State,  and  post-office 
address.     Please  favor  me  with  these  data." 

When  this  was  done,  Boyd  said :  "Now,  Doctor, 
how  long,  think  you,  will  it  be  until  I  shall  be  able 
to  return  to  my  regiment?" 

"Can't  say  as  to  that,"  replied  the  surgeon;  "it 
may  be  a  month,  or  even  two  months.  We  can't 
hurry  nature.  She  will  not  be  hurried.  You  will 
require  much  nursing  and  attention,  and  must 
acquire  blood,  tissue,  and  nerve  power,  before  you 
will  convalesce.  You  shall  have  the  best  that  this 
hospital  can  furnish,  which  is  all  that  we  can  do." 

Boyd  asked  how  long  tlie  hospital  would  prob- 


70  THE  LAST  MAN 

ably  remain  there.  The  answer  was  that  rumor 
had  it  that  the  hospital  would  soon  be  discontinued 
and  the  inmates  carried  by  rail  to  hospitals  at 
Richmond. 

"Has  any  arrangement  been  made  between  the 
two  armies  for  an  exchange  of  prisoners?"  asked 
Boyd. 

"None,  so  far  as  I  know,"  said  the  surgeon; 
"but  I  presume  there  will  be  an  exchange  before 
long.  Your  army  needs  more  men,  I  think,  and 
the  men  it  needs  are  the  men  we  do  not  want; 
and  your  army  has  some  of  our  men  as  prisoners, 
that  it  doesn't  want,  and  those  are  the  men  that 
we  may  need,  before  long,  eh?" 

"That  is  a  fair  statement.  Doctor,  I  am  sure,  but 
here  I  am,  among  strangers,  without  a  fellow- 
ofificer  or  soldier  to  see  and  talk  to.  I  fear  I  shall 
become  lonely,  and  a  burden  to  you." 

"By  no  means.  Captain  Boyd.  I  will  arrange 
to-day,  if  possible,  to  put  you  into  better  quarters, 
and  give  you  stimulating  nourishment,  so  that  all 
you  will  have  to  do  is  to  get  well  enough  to  go  tO' 
your  people,  when  your  chance  comes.  As  to  your 
becoming  lonesome,  I  think  I  have  in  store  for 
you  something  that  will  cure,  or  rather  prevent, 
lonesomeness.     We  shall  see." 

The  surgeon  smiled  mysteriously,  as  he  hinted 
at  a  prescription  for  such  a  complaint,  and  Boyd'S 
curiosity  was  excited  and  piqued  by  the  doctor's 
reticence. 

That  afternoon  the  captain  was  lifted  from  his 


IN  THE  HANDS  OF  THE  ENEMY  71 

cot,  placed  on  a  stretcher,  and  borne  some  distance 
to  more  commodious  quarters,  where  a  score  of 
wounded  Confederate  officers  were  lodged  and 
treated. 

He  was  assigned  a  cot  by  himself,  at  some  dis- 
tance from  them.  His  furnishings  and  surround- 
ings were  quite  complete,  tasteful,  and  almost 
elaborate.  Evidently,  artistic  hands  had  been  at 
work  there.  A  small  colored  boy,  the  same  one 
that  had  assisted  Miss  Long,  was  ordered  to  stay 
with  and  wait  upon  him. 

The  fatigue  induced  by  his  removal,  however 
carefully  it  had  been  conducted,  was  sufficient  to 
put  him  asleep,  in  which  condition  he  remained  for 
several  hours. 

While  all  these  things  were  occurring,  a  pair  of 
bright  eyes  wa.tched  from  a  secure  hiding  place,  and 
a  woman's  heart  beat  tumultuously. 


VII. 

CONVALESCENCE. 

The  surgeon  was  in  high  spirits  when  he  discov- 
ered, or  surmised,  that  there  was  a  Httle  drama 
going  on  between  two  actors — the  captain  and 
Miss  Long,  Hastening  to  her,  as  soon  as  possible, 
he  announced,  with  more  animation  than  is  con- 
sidered proper  by  medical  men,  that  the  captain 
had  resumed  proper  mental  functions  and  would 
completely  recover  health  and  strength  in  a  brief 
period.  A  gleam  of  joy,  which  she  strove  in  vain 
to  suppress,  lit  up  the  young  woman's  face  and 
eyes.  "Now,  tell  me.  Miss  Long,  will  you  not," 
said  he,  "when,  where,  and  under  what  circum- 
stances, you  became  acquainted  with  the  captain." 

In  accordance  with  her  promise,  she  gave  a  full 
and  circumstantial  account  of  the  origin  and  prog- 
ress of  their  acquaintance,  and  of  the  captain's 
silent,  but  none  the  less  pronounced  sympathy  for 
her  mother  and  herself,  but  not  for  her  views  as  to 
secession,  whenever  the  other  officers  would  nag  and 
rate  her  and  the  South,  for  the  attempted  revolution. 
Then  came  the  account  of  her  arrest,  transporta- 
tion, incarceration,  and  deliverance  from  prison, 
and  her  restoration  to  home  and  mother.  "And, 
Doctor,"  added  she,  "when  the  boat  was  about  to 
leave  Galliput  for  my  home  he  placed  in  my  hand 


CONVALESCENCE  73 

a  sealed  envelope,  shook  my  other  hand,  said 
'good  bye,'  and  was  gone,  and  I  never  saw  him 
again  until  the  second  day  after  the  battle,  when 
his  moaning  caught  my  ear,  over  yonder  in  the 
hospital." 

"And  what  was  in  the  envelope,  Miss  Long," 
said  the  doctor,  "if  you  feel  that  you  may  tell?  A 
genuine  love-letter,  I  dare  say." 

"No,  not  a  love-letter,  but  something  better," 
said  she ;  "ever  so  much  better  for  us." 

"Ah,  Miss  Long,  what  could  be  better  than  a 
love-letter  from  such  a  nice  fellow,  except  a  pro- 
posal of  marriage,  eh?" 

"O,  it  was  better  than  that,  even,"  said  she.  "I 
may  as  well  tell  you,  Doctor,  that  on  opening  the 
envelope,  after  reaching  home,  mother  and  I  were 
surprised  beyond  measure  to  see  several  bank  notes 
of  high  value,  of  the  old  Government's  money,  and 
on  a  little  slip  of  paper,  some  words  expressive  of 
sympathy  for  us,  and  begging  us  to  receive  the 
money  as  a  loan.  At  the  close  he  said,  'take  good 
care  of  your  mother  and  yourself,  until  the  war  is 
over,  and  we  may  meet  again !'  " 

As  she  ended  the  account,  a  tide  of  emotion 
swept  over  her,  and  her  tears  fell  like  rain.  The 
doctor's  eyes  were  dewy,  and  his  voice  quavered, 
as  he  said : 

"Miss  Long,  yours  is  a  thrilling  experience,  and 
this  is  a  noble  man,  if  he  is  a  Yankee  and  an  enemy. 
Now  I  comprehend  why  you  have  taken  such  an 


74  THE  LAST  MAN 

interest  in  him,  and  have  made  such  exertions  for 
his  recovery." 

"But,  Doctor,  there  is  a  burden  on  my  mind  that 
I  cannot  get  rid  of." 

"What  is  it,  Miss  Long?" 

"I  want  to  repay  the  money  before  he  leaves  us." 

"Why  should  you  repay  it?  It  was  a  present. 
Miss  Long." 

"Possibly  it  was.  Doctor,  but  no  lady  accepts  a 
present  of  such  a  kind,  or  of  any  kind,  from  a  sin- 
gle gentleman,  unless  she  is — is — " 

"Engaged  to  him,  you  mean.  Miss  Long,"  said 
the  doctor,  by  way  of  assistance. 

"Certainly,  Doctor,"  said  she,  in  beautiful  em- 
barrassment. 

"Ah,  well,"  said  the  doctor,  "you  are  as  worthy 
as  he,  and  I  take  ofif  my  hat  to  both  of  you,  for 
this  illustration  of  a  noble  ideal  of  human  life,  so 
seldom,  if  ever,  realized.  May  I  have  the  supreme 
pleasure  of  telling  him  you  are  here,  and  bringing 
you  face  to  face  again  ?" 

"O,  Doctor,"  said  Alena,  "I  am  afraid  it  would 
not  be  best,  in  such  a  place,  and  under  such  cir- 
cumstances." 

"Begging  your  pardon,  Miss  Long,  permit  me 
to  say  that  this  is  the  very  place,  and  these  the 
very  conditions,  under  which  you  should  meet 
again,  and  renew  your  acquaintance.  Two  such 
souls  should  not  longer  be  sundered,  and  I  beg 
that  you  will  waive  your  scruples,  and  permit  me 
to  prepare  him  to  meet  you  to-morrow." 


CONVALESCENCE  75 

Said  she,  "Doctor,  suppose  it  was  your  daugh- 
ter, far  from  home,  among  strangers — an  orphan — 
would  you  favor  the  thing  you  now  propose?" 

"Most  certamly  I  would.  Miss  Long,  if  the  man 
in  the  case  were  such  a  man  as  Captain  Boyd." 

"Then  I  consent,  Doctor,  as  I  want  to  speak  to 
him  and  thank  him." 

Going  over  to  Boyd's  quarters,  the  surgeon 
found  him  resting  quietly,  but  wide  awake,  and 
apparently  ruminating. 

"Hello,  Captain;  why  don't  you  sleep,  as  you  did 
some  days  since?     What  has  come  over  you?" 

"Certainly  not  a  spell  from  Morpheus,  Doctor," 
said  Boyd.  "I  cannot  avoid  thinking  when  I  shaH 
get  back  to  my  command.  That  is  what  keeps  me 
awake." 

"I  am  sorry  I  can't  inform  you  on  that  subject, 
but  while  you  are  doomed  to  remain  with  us.  Cap- 
tain, you  shall  be  treated  as  a  soldier  and  a  gentle- 
man. By  the  way,  I  think  you  are  getting  lonely, 
and  to-morrow  I  shall  begin  treating  you  for  lone- 
someness,"  said  the  doctor ;  and  again  that  myste- 
rious smile  pervaded  his  benign  countenance. 

Next  day,  after  a  thorough  examination  of 
Boyd's  now  fast-healing  wound,  the  doctor  said,  as 
though  it  was  a  mere  passing  thought,  "Captain, 
did  you  ever  know  a  Miss  Long,  oyer  in  West  Vir- 
ginia?" 

Boyd  roused  at  the  question,  and,  looking  sharp 
at  the  face  of  the  questioner,  said,  slowly:  "Yes,  I 
knew  a  Miss  Long  and  her  mother  at  Gramercy 


76  THE  LAST  MAN 

West  Virginia,  in  the  winter  of  1861-62.  My 
regiment  and  other  troops  wintered  there,  and  sev- 
eral officers,  including  myself,  boarded  with  her 
mother  for  several  weeks.     Why,  Doctor?" 

"Have  you  ever  seen  her  since  that  winter?" 
asked  the  doctor. 

"Yes,"  repUed  Boyd ;  and  then  followed  a  brief 
account  of  her  liberation  from  prison,  from  which, 
however,  was  omitted  all  reference  to  his  kindness 
and  gallantry  to  her. 

"Do  you  expect  to  see  her  and  her  mother 
again?"  queried  the  doctor. 

"Yes,  when  I  am  exchanged  and  get  a  furlough 
to  go  and  see  my  mother  and  sisters,  I  may  visit 
the  Longs,  too." 

"But  possibly  you  would  not  find  them  at  their 
old  home,"  suggested  the  doctor. 

"Where  then?"  asked  Boyd,  turning  quickly 
toward  the  surgeon.  "What  do  you  know?  Are 
they  dead,  or  have  they  removed?" 

"No,  my  dear  fellow;  she  is  not  dead,  and  will 
not  be  for  many  years,  I  hope.  For  a  considera- 
tion, I  could  tell  you  where  she  is,  at  this  moment." 

"Name  the  consideration,  Doctor,"  said  Boyd. 

"That  you  do  not  become  excited  when  I  tell 
you,"  said  the  doctor. 

"I  promise.  Doctor ;  now  tell  me." 

"She  is  here !  Look  toward  the  other  side  of 
your  couch!" 

He  looked.  There  stood  Miss  Long,  motion- 
less, cheeks  flushed,  and  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground. 


CONVALESCENCE  77 

"Miss  Long!" 

"Captain  Boyd !"  Then  hands  joined  in  a  firm, 
prolonged  clasp. 

He  spoke,  "And  you  are  here?" 

"Yes,"  said  she,  "and  yon  are  here?" 

At  this  sally  all  three  smiled. 

"Yes,  I  am  here ;  unwillingly,  though.  Miss 
Long.     Is  that  your  condition?" 

"No,  I  am  here  as  a  hospital  nurse.  I  came  over 
from  Gramercy  to  Richmond  in  February,  and 
have  been  doing  hospital  work  there,  until  the  next 
day  after  the  battle  here,  when  a  half  dozen  of  us 
nurses  were  sent  up  to  assist  in  the  cure  of  the 
wounded." 

"There,  that  is  sufficient  for  this  time,"  broke  in 
the  doctor.  "I  see  my  prescription  is  a  good  one. 
But  your  pulse  .has  gone  up,  Captain,  and  you  must 
cease  the  treatment  for  to-day.  To-morrow  the 
dose  may  be  repeated,  Captain,  eh?" 

"O,  Captain  Boyd,"  broke  in  Miss  Long,  "allow 
me  to  present  you  to  our  surgeon-in-chief.  Dr. 
Culp." 

The  men  shook  hands.  "I  have  had  Dr.  Culp's 
hands  on  me  often,  but  never  more  gently  and 
pleasantly  than  now,"  said  Boyd. 

"And  who  knows  but  that  you  may  lay  hands 
on  me,  some  time?"  said  Dr.  Culp.  "But  now, 
Miss  Long,  you  are  excused  for  the  present ;  and 
you.  Captain,  compose  yourself,  and  sleep  awhile." 

At  the  surgeon's  visit  next  day,  the  subject  now 
uppermost    in    Boyd's    mind    recurred — how,    and 


78  THE  LAST  MAN 

why,  Miss  Long  came  to  Richmond,  and  where 
was  her  mother? 

"She  herself  shall  tell  you  that,"  said  Dr.  Gulp. 
"I  will  tell  you,  though,  what  she  will  not  tell." 
•     "What  is  that.  Doctor?"  asked  Boyd. 

"That  if  it  had  not  been  for  her  constant  care 
and  nursing,  night  and  day,  for  more  than  a  week, 
during  your  fever  and  delirium,  you  would  not 
now  be  above  ground  to  hear  me  tell  you  this. 
Never  before  have  I  seen  a  recovery  from  so  com- 
plete a  case  of  collapse,  nor  have  I  ever  seen  before 
such  devotion  on  the  part  of  either  physician  or 
nurse,  as  hers  has  been.  Ah,  here  she  comes. 
Miss  Long,  the  Captain  wants  to  know  why  you 
became  a  nurse,  and  how  you  got  to  Richmond. 
Tell  him,  while  I  visit  the  other  patients." 

"Now  tell  the  story.  Miss  Long,"  said  Boyd. 

Taking  a  seat  some  feet  distant,  she  began. 
"When  I  reached  home,  after  we  parted  at  Galliput, 
I  found  mother  looking  so  sad  and  wan  that  I  was 
about  to  break  out  in  weeping ;  but,  at  sight  of  me, 
all  that  vanished  in  a  moment.  Then  I  told  her 
what  I  had  seen  and  suffered,  and  how  you  secured 
my  release,  and  sent  me  home.  And  when  I 
opened  that  envelope  and  found  money,  so  much 
of  it,  we  were  speechless  with  apprehension.  But 
when  I  read  your  note,  we  were  relieved  of  suspi- 
cion as  to  your  motives,  Captain.  And,  just  now, 
I  want  to  thank  you  for  your  favor,  and  to  say  that, 
just  as  soon  as  possible,  I  will  return  the  amount." 


CONVALESCENCE  79 

"Please  don't  speak  of  that  now,  Miss  Long ;  go 
on  with  your  story." 

"Are  you  prepared  for  a  sad  story?"  asked  she. 

"Certainly,  since  I  have  asked  you  for  it,"  said  he. 

"Well,  for  a  few  days  mamma  seemed  to  be  her- 
self again,  but  the  blow  she  had  received  brought 
on  'sinking  spells,'  as  the  neighbors  called  them, 
which  happened  almost  every  day.  The  doctor 
called  it  'heart  failure,'  due  to  intense  excitement 
and  worry  about  me,  but  said  that  she  would  soon 
recover.  Still  she  grew  worse,  had  attacks  oftener, 
and  became  very  pale  and  weak.  One  day,  Decem- 
ber 29th,  I  ran  over  to  Mrs.  Cook's  to  have  her 
come  and  see  mamma, — she  had  a  look  so  un- 
earthly, and  far  away, — and  as  we  were  coming, 
the  servant  came  screaming,  *0,  come  quick,  Miss, 
Missus  is  dying,  I  believe.'  We  flew  tO'  mamma. 
She  was  dying.  She  motioned  me  with  her  head 
to  come  to  her.  I  clasped  her  in  my  arms,  and, 
kissing  each  other,  she  whispered :  'I  am  going, 
dear!  Meet  me  up  yonder.'  Her  eyes  were  fixed, 
as  if  looking  at  something  beautiful  that  she  had 
never  seen  before,  and, — she  was  dead !  O  my  poor 
heart !  It  seemed  to  be  broken.  I  wanted  to  die, 
too.  I  could  neither  cry  nor  speak.  I  had  nothing 
left  to  live  for.  Father  dead ;  brother  George 
killed  at  the  second  battle  of  Bull  Run ;  brother 
Bertrand  gone  I  know  not  where,  and  now, 
mother, — the  dearest,  sweetest,  saintliest  mother 
that  ever  a  child  had, — dead ! 

"How  long  I  clung  to  her  icy  form,  I  know  not. 


80  THE  LAST  MAN 

They  took  me  away,  put  me  into  another  room, 
and  I  knew  no  more  until  they  came  to  take  me  to 
the  funeral !  She  lies  in  the  little  cemetery  at  Gra- 
mercy  and  my  heart  lies  there  too !" 

"Pray,  don't  let  grief  give  a  tinge  to  your  whole 
life,  Miss  Long.  All  must  die,  sooner  or  later, 
and,  under  the  ordinary  course  of  nature,  your 
mother  would  die  before  you.  I  have  no  doubt 
and  you  have  no  doubt,  that  she  is  happy." 

"Yes,"  said  Alena,  "if  ever  one  was  ready  to  go, 
it  was  mother." 

"And  now,  Miss  Long,  go  on.  What  did  you  do 
next?"  asked  he.  "I  sat  down  to  consider;  I 
must  do  something.  Just  then,  when  I  didn't 
know  which  way  to  turn,  one  of  the  neighbors  got 
a  letter  from  a  friend  in  Richmond,  saying  that 
women  were  wanted  for  nurses,  to  assist  in  taking 
care  of  patients  in  hospitals  in  and  about  Rich- 
mond. We  answered  the  letter,  asking  our  friends 
to  go  to  the  authorities  and  secure  me  a  place. 
In  about  a  month,  I  got  an  answer,  telling  me  to 
come  on  quickly.  I  sold  some  of  our  effects  for 
a  small  sum  which,  with  what  was  left  of  your  loan 
to  us,  enabled  me  to  get  some  heavy  winter  cloth- 
ing, and  on  February  15th,  with  nothing  but  that 
valise,  an  umbrella,  and  a  few  dollars,  I  bade  fare- 
well to  all,  and  set  out  for  Richmond.  In  the  one- 
horse  dearborn  of  a  fast  friend  of  the  family,  and 
the  South,  we  left  at  night  so  as  not  to  be  observed 
or  followed;  and  after  fifteen  miles  of  hard  travel, 
reached   a   friend's   house   at   daybreak.      Resting 


CONVALESCENCE  81 

there  through  the  day,  I  was  carried  at  night 
another  stage,  and  lay  by  during  the  day.  Thus  I 
came,  resting  every  day  at  the  house  of  a  stanch 
Southerner.  It  occupied  fifteen  nights  to  make  the 
journey,  and,  in  the  gray  of  a  bitterly  cold  morn- 
ing, we  reached  Staunton,  Virginia,  and  for  the 
first  time  I  felt  safe  and  breathed  easy.  Resting 
there  for  two  days,  I  then  came  by  rail  to  Rich- 
mond." 

"Were  you  never  stopped  by  any  one  on  your 
journey?"  asked  Boyd. 

"Only  once,  just  beyond  the  top  of  the  moun- 
tains. It  was  after  midnight,  I  judge,  when  sud- 
denly, two  men  said  'halt,'  and  caught  the  horse 
by  the  bridle.  They  asked  us  who  we  were,  and 
where  we  were  going  at  that  time  of  night.  We 
were  prepared  for  this.  I  told  them  we  were  from 
Kentucky,  that  the  driver  was  our  farm  hand,  and 
that  I  was  on  my  way  to  join  my  husband,  a  Union 
officer,  in  a  fort  at  the  summit  of  the  Allegheny 
Mountains.  Then,  lady,  we  must  stop  you.  We 
are  on  the  other  side,  and  our  orders  are  to  stop 
everybody,  and  carry  them  to  our  headquarters,  up 
yonder.'  I  felt  sure  they  told  the  truth,  and  then 
I  told  them  truly  where  I  was  from,  where  I  was 
going,  and  for  what  purpose.  But  none  the  less, 
they  said  I  must  go  to  their  camp.  In  about  half  an 
hour  we  reached  an  old  cabin  in  a  deep  ravine,  hid 
by  overhanging  pines.  O,  how  lonely,  and,  as  I 
thought,  how  dangerous !  Our  captors  waked  the 
commander,  who  stirred  the  fire,  made  a  light, 
6 


82  THE  LAST  MAN 

looked  at  and  questioned  us  closely,  until  he  was 
satisfied  that  we  were  true  Southerners,  when  he 
said  'we  might  go  vn.  Cut  wait  a  minute,  lady; 
what  would  you  do  if  the  "Yanks"  should  gobble 
you?'  'Really  I  don't  know,'  said  I.  'Hold  on,' 
said  he.  Going  into  another  apartment,  he  brought 
out  a  Yankee  officer's  coat,  and  giving  it  to  me 
said,  'If  they  stop  you,  make  a  story  to  suit,  and 
show  them  the  coat,  and  they'll  believe  your  story 
and  let  you  go  on.  Good-bye,  and  good  luck  to  you.' 
As  we  proceeded  I  wove  a  fine  story,  and  had  it  in 
readiness  should  the  occasion  arise  requiring  its 
use.  But,  fortunately,  no  further  detention  hap- 
pened." 

Dr.  Gulp  had  returned  and  heard  that  part  of 
the  story  detailing  her  journey,  and  said : 

"Miss  Long,  nearly  all  seeming  evils  and  mis- 
fortunes have  their  compensations.  In  the  midst 
of  hardships  and  dangers  you  found  friends,  tried 
and  true;  since  your  arrival  you  are  in  the  midst 
of  a  multitude  whose  object  is  the  same — independ- 
ence of  the  old  Government,  now  oppressive  and 
efifete  (I  beg  pardon.  Captain  Boyd).  If  we  suc- 
ceed, as  I  believe  we  shall  (I  beg  pardon  again, 
Captain),  you  will  have  an  honorable  record  in  its 
attainment,  and  a  rich  share  in  the  advantages  to 
follow." 


VIIL 
EXCHANGED. 

Dr.  Gulp  had  taken  such  a  hvely  interest  in  Gap- 
tain  Boyd  and  Miss  Long  that  he  had  decided  to 
have  the  prisoner  and  his  belongings  brought  from 
the  hospital  to  the  headquarters,  which  occupied  an 
old-fashioned  Virginia  house,  vacated  by  its 
owner,  who,  with  his  family,  had  removed  to  Rich- 
mond. There  were  the  surgeon,  the  hospital 
steward,  and  a  colored  man,  his  wife  and  their  little 
son,  whose  business  was  to  do  the  cooking  and 
other  work.  The  room  next  to  Dr.  Gulp's  was  put 
in  order  for  Gaptain  Boyd,  who  was  carried  thither 
the  same  day.  There  were  chairs  instead  of 
campstools,  and  a  dressing  case  with  its  mirror,  and 
all  the  other  equipments  of  a  gentleman's  chamber, 
and  even  a  thermometer,  to  indicate  the  increment 
of  sensible  heat  in  those  ardent  summer  days. 

The  doctor  had  just  congratulated  the  prisoner 
and  himself  on  the  improved  conditions  and  sur- 
roundings, when  the  swish  of  feminine  skirts  was 
heard  without,  and  the  next  moment.  Miss  Long 
stood  at  the  open  door.  The  doctor  bade  her 
enter,  and,  having  seated  her,  said : 

"Miss  Long,  as  you  were  a  prisoner  once,  and  Gap- 
tain  Boyd  released  you,  and  as  he  is  now  the  pris- 
oner, I  appoint  you  his  jailor,  from  this  time  forth, 


84  THE  LAST  MAN 

to  have  and  to  hold  said  prisoner;  to  see  that  he 
is  kept  safe ;  that  he  behaves  himself,  and,  espe- 
cially that  you  secure  his  complete  release  from 
loneliness,  of  which  he  has  been  complaining  of 
late.  For  this  purpose,  you,  as  jailor,  shall  come 
here,  every  day,  for  one  hour,  to  discharge  this 
duty.  Do  you  accept  the  office,  and  the  duty 
named?" 

"Of  course,  I  am  subject  to  your  orders.  Doctor," 
said  she. 

"And  are  you,  the  prisoner,  willing  to  be  con- 
trolled by  this  gentle  jailor?" 

"Certainly,  I  am  willing,"  assented  Boyd;  "such 
a  jail,  and  such  a  jailor,  would  mitigate  greatly  the 
horrors  of  any  one's  captivity." 

All  laughed  heartily,  and  the  doctor,  either  by 
accident  or  intent,  went  away,  leaving  them  alone. 

The  jailor  seemed  quite  timid  at  first,  but  the 
prisoner  soon  set  her  at  ease  by  his  cheerful,  cour- 
teous ways  and  words.  Once  more  she  spoke  of 
his  loan  to  her  mother,  and  her  consuming  desire 
to  pay  it,  at  the  earliest  possible  moment. 

"I  have  no  note  or  other  obligation  against  you," 
said  Boyd. 

"Very  true,  and  that  is  just  the  reason  I  mention 
the  matter,"  said  she.  "I  shall  give  you  my  note, 
with  interest,  dated  October  20,  1862,  and  due  and 
payable, — oh,  when  shall  I  say,  Captain  ?" 

"When  this  cruel  war  is  over,"  said  he. 

"But  that  would  not  be  business-like,"  sug- 
gested she. 


EXCHANGED  85 

"And  yet  that  is  the  way  all  your  Confederate 
money  is  made  payable,"  said  he. 

"Well,  if  that  is  tiaie,"  responded  she,  "none  the 
less,  it  is  not  the  proper  business  method." 

"I'll  tell  you  the  best  way.  Miss  Long.  Just  let 
it  remain  as  a  loan  and  give  yourself  no  trouble 
about  it.  If  I  should  die  or  be  killed,  before  the 
war  ends,  I  will  not  need  the  money.  If  you 
should  die,  you  wouldn't  need  it,  either." 

"If  that  is  your  wish,  Captain,  I  will  leave  it  so, 
as  I  think  it  harasses  you  to  hear  so  much  about  it." 

"Agreed,"  said  he.  "Let  us  talk  of  something 
else.  When  am  I  going  to  get  away  from  this 
place,  jailor?" 

"Really,  I  don't  know,  prisoner,  but  I  suspect 
that  we  shall  all  be  removed  soon.  I  heard  Dr. 
Culp  and  a  medical  director  from  Richmond  talk- 
ing yesterday  about  some  great  'movement,'  as 
they  called  it,  which  is  to  be  made  soon ;  and  the 
director  told  Dr.  Culp  to  send  the  sick  and 
wounded  to  their  commands,  just  as  soon,  and  as 
fast,  as  their  health  and  condition  would  admit." 

"Did  they  say  when,  and  tO'  what  point,  or  place, 
the  movement  w^as  to  be  made?"  asked  Boyd,  with 
the  instinct  of  a  soldier. 

"Ah,  Captain,  you  are  shrewd,  I  see;  but  even 
if  I  knew,  I  would  not  dare  to  tell  any  one,  and 
least  of  all,  to  an  officer  who  is  opposed  to  us.  But, 
in  truth,  Captain,  I  do  not  know." 

"Where  do  you  think  I  will  be  sent  before  this 
movement  begfins  ?"  asked  he. 


86  THE  LAST  MAN 

"To  Richmond,  I  suppose,  with  all  the  very  sick, 
the  badly  wounded,  and  the  hospital  stores  and 
nurses,"  she  replied. 

"Then  you  will  be  there,  too,  and  will  not  be  a 
part  of  this  movement,"  suggested  he,  with  anxiety 
in  his  face  and  voice. 

''I  can't  say.  Captain;  we  nurses  are  subject  to 
orders,  just  as  you  and  your  army  are." 

"And  what  are  you  going  to  do,  Miss  Long, 
when  the  war  is  over?"  he  asked. 

"I  do  not  know,  Captain,  nor  can  I  imagine." 

"Have  you  relations  to  whom  you  can  go  ?" 

"None,  except  an  aunt  on  father's  side,  but  there 
never  seemed  to  be  any  love  between  mother  and 
her,  and,  of  course,  she  wouldn't  care  for  me." 

"Where  does  she  live?"  pursued  he. 

"In  Richmond.     Father  died  at  her  home." 

Boyd  ruminated  for  several  moments,  then,  ris- 
ing, and  resting  on  an  elbow,  he  said,  with  a 
tremor  in  his  voice : 

"Miss  Long,  if  there  was  not  a  war,  in  which 
you  and  I  have  espoused  opposite  sides  of  the  great 
problem,  now  in  process  of  solution  by  the  sword, 
I  would  venture  to  speak  of  a  matter. quite  differ- 
ent from  war,  and  far  more  pleasing  to  me,  at  least ; 
but,  as  matters  stand,  to  speak  of  it  would  compro- 
mise both  of  us,  since  each  has  solemnly  engaged 
to  give  his  efiforts,  and  his  life,  if  need  be,  for  the 
promotion  and  success  of  that  which  he  deems  to 
be  the  right.  Think  this  over,  my  little  jailor,  and 
tell  me  what  you  think,  will  you  not?" 


EXCHANGED  87 

"But,  Captain,  what  is  it  you  would  have  me 
think  over?" 

"Ah,  Miss  Long, — oh,  how  stiff  and  formal  that 
ever-recurring  'Miss  Long'  sounds, — may  I  not 
call  you  Alena,  hereafter,  when  we  are  alone?" 

"Yes,  if  it  suits  you  better.  'Miss  Long'  does 
sound  a  little  stately  and  conventional,"  answered 
she. 

"Well  then,  Alena,  my  dear  friend,  you  surely 
know,  by  this  time,  that  I  have  a  preference  for 
you.  You  must  have  felt  that  I  entertained  a 
higher  regard  than  exists  in  mere  friendship.  At 
least  I  know  it,  and  what  I  want  to  learn,  before  I 
leave,  is  w'hether  it  will  be  worth  while  for  me  to 
cherish  the  hope  that  'in  the  sweet  bye  and  bye'  I 
may  find  you  and  tell  you  all  I  feel,  and  all  I  hope 
for.  Think  it  over  and  tell  me  to-morrow,  Alena, 
will  you?" 

"I'll  promise  to  think  it  over,  Captain,"  consented 
she,  her  face  and  neck  suffused  with  that  tell-tale 
token  of  the  birth  of  love  in  the  heart  of  an  inno- 
cent, pure  woman. 

"Ah,  here  comes  Dr.  Culp,"  said  Boyd.  "Doc- 
tor, will  you  not  let  me  try  to  walk  a  little  ?" 

"No,"  said  the  doctor,  "but  I  will  do  something 
better  for  you  to-morrow.  You  couldn't  walk  yet. 
And  how  does  your  jailor  succeed,  eh?"  asked  he, 
with  a  broad,  genial  smile,  and  a  twinkle  in  his  eyes. 

"Perfectly,"  said  Boyd.  "The  captivity  is  sweet, 
rather  than  galling." 

"I  thought  it  would  be  so.     Do  you  not  feel  bet- 


88  THE  LAST  MAN 

ter  of  that  loneliness,  Captain?"  asked  he,  with 
mock  gravity. 

"Yes,  I  confess  I  do,  Doctor." 

Here  Miss  Long  went  out. 

"To-morrow,"  said  the  doctor,  "I  will  get  you 
up  and  seat  you  in  that  arm  chair,  and  when  she 
comes  and  sees  you,  just  observe  the  expression 
that  will  be  on  her  face.  Captain,  I  cannot  mis- 
take ;   that  young  woman  is  in  love  with  you." 

"Bah !"  said  Boyd,  "I  have  never  spoken  a  word 
about  love  to  her,  and  do  you  think  she  would  lead 
in  such  a  matter?" 

"No, — not  lead, — but  her  heart  is  no  longer 
under  control  of  her  head,  and  I  know  it,"  said  the 
doctor. 

"How  do  you  know  it.  Doctor?" 

"By  all  that  transpired  before  either  of  you  came 
here,  and,  still  more,  by  all  that  I  have  observed 
since  you  came." 

Next  day,  when  she  came,  there  sat  Boyd,  in  a 
wide  chair,  dressed,  and  looking  very  bright  and 
cheerful.  A  great  joy,  which  she  did  not  attempt 
to  conceal,  lit  up  her  face,  and  all  three  smiled  elo- 
quently.    Boyd  broke  the  silence : 

"Miss  Long,  this  is  a  deal  better  than  Galliput, 
when  you  had  nothing  to  sit  on  but  a  three-legged 
stool." 

"And  how  glad  I  am  that  it  is  so,"  replied  she; 
"but  I  regret  that  I  cannot  do  for  you  what  you 
did  for  me  at  Galliput, — set  you  at  liberty." 

"Never  mind  that,"  put  in  Dr.  Culp,  as  he  took 


EXCHANGED  89 

his -hat  and  went  out;  "that  will  come  of  itself,  and 
before  long." 

"Now,  my  jailor,"  said  Boyd,  "tell  me  what  you 
think  of  the  subject  I  broached  yesterday." 

Her  words  seemed  to  stick  in  her  throat,  but  she 
managed  to  say : 

"I  am  not  sure  that  I  know  what  you  meant, 
Captain,  but  I  quite  agree  with  you  that,  until  the 
war  ends,  we  can  be  and  remain  good  friends  only." 

"That  is  it  exactly,"  said  he ;  "shake  hands  on  it, 
my  good  friend  and  jailor." 

They  joined  hands  in  a  prolonged  fervent  pres- 
sure, and  there  was  an  important  compact  made, 
even  though  it  was  not  "signed,  sealed,  and  deliv- 
ered in  the  presence  of  witnesses." 

Within  the  next  week  patients  in  the  hospital 
diminished  rapidly,  most  of  them  being  sent  to 
their  commands,  and  some  to  the  cemetery.  Boyd 
had  become  able  to  walk ;  the  surgeon  and  the 
"jailor"  came  every  day  to  see  him ;  and  the  "friend- 
ship," as  the  two  called  it,  became  a  very  different 
sentiment  from  that  which  animated  Damon  and 
Pythias.  It  was,  as  Dr.  Culp  saw,  and  as  you, 
dear  reader,  see,  a  case  of  pure,  unselfish,  mutual, 
unspoken  love ! 

O  Love !  Born  in  Heaven,  but  domiciled  on 
earth  ever  since  Eden,  and  seeking — yea,  finding — 
a  lodging  place  in  every  honest,  upright,  human 
heart !  All  such  as  seek  thee  are  found  and  con- 
quered by  thee !  These  words  are  addressed  to 
genuine,  old-fashioned  love,  alone. 


90  THE  LAST  MAN 

Out  upon  that  base  counterfeit  which  many  call 
love,  but  which  is  mere  brute  passion,  such  as  the 
lower  orders  of  animals  experience,  or  that  other 
still  more  reprehensible  thing  that  prevails  in 
courts,  guilds  of  nobles,  classes  of  aristocrats,  and 
the  over-wealthy  and  exclusive !  Scarcely  less 
wicked  and  criminal  is  that  custom  in  many  coun- 
tries of  making  marriage  a  mere  civil  contract,  or 
that  other  abomination  called  morganatic  marriage. 
All  these  are  counterfeits,  more  or  less  gross,  and 
are  the  devil's  own  inventions,  to  deceive,  cheat, 
and  lead  to  shame,  ignominy,  and  destruction,  the 
sons  and  daughters  of  men.  The  words  of  Madam 
Roland,  changed  in  one  word  are  apposite : 

"O,  Love,  what  crimes  are  committed  in  thy  name!" 

An  incident  of  thrilling  interest  happened  on  one 
of  those  sultry  summer  days  which  set  the  matter 
at  rest  as  to  Miss  Long's  state  of  feeling  toward  the 
captain,  and  was  a  revelation  to  all  who  saw  it.  A 
thunder-storm  came  driving  up,  with  great  fury, 
while  she  was  making  her  daily  visit  to  him.  Sud- 
denly a  blinding  flash  and  a  clap  of  thunder,  loud 
and  sharp  as  the  report  of  a  twelve-pound  Parrott 
gun,  dazed,  and  for  a  moment  paralyzed,  all  in  and 
about  the  building.  A  few  moments  later,  smoke 
and  a  blaze  showed  that  the  house  had  been  struck 
and  set  on  fire,  the  whole  length  of  the  roof.  Worse, 
still.  Captain  Boyd  was  unconscious,  and  when 
Dr.  Culp  and  others  came,  they  found  the  gallant 
little  woman  trying  with  might  and  main  to  pull 


EXCHANGED  91 

out  of  the  house  his  couch  with  the  still  form  upon 
it.  Tears  and  terror  were  on  her  tace,  and  almost 
superhuman  strength  seemed  to  be  exerted  by  her. 
Assistance  was  rendered,  and  soon  all  were  out  of 
the  building.  The  surgical  instruments,  their  cloth- 
ing, and  a  few  other  articles  were  saved,  while  all 
else  and  the  house  was  consumed  within  half  an 
hour.  The  couch  and  its  burden  were  carried  back 
to  the  hospital.  The  doctor  and  Miss  Long  went 
with  those  who  bore  the  couch.  All  were 
thoroughly  drenched  by  the  torrents  of  rain  which, 
in  the  captain's  case,  was  the  best  possible  treat- 
ment for  an  electric  shock.  In  a  few  minutes  he 
recovered  consciousness,  opened  his  eyes,  as  if  from 
sleep,  and  was  himself  again.  For  the  first  time 
the  young  woman  forgot  her  reserve,  rushed  to  the 
couch,  hid  her  face  on  his  breast  and  burst  into 
glad  weeping,  while  he  placed  his  arms  about  her 
in  a  strong,  fond  embrace. 

Two  days  later  the  hospital  was  discontinued, 
and  the  patients,  materials,  bag  and  baggage,  were 
transported  to  Richmond.  Captain  Boyd  was 
placed  in  the  convalescent  ward  of  an  officer's  hos- 
pital, and  Miss  Long,  through  Dr.  Gulp's  influence, 
was  assigned  to  duty  in  that  ward.  The  meetings 
thus  continued,  she  coming,  ostensibly,  to  write  his 
letters.  Soon  a  cartel  for  the  exchange  of  prisoners 
was  arranged,  and  Boyd,  being  now  able  to  return 
to  his  own,  was  designated  as  one  of  the  fortunate 
prisoners.     On  the  morrow  the  prisoners  were  to 


92  THE  LAST  MAN 

be  sent  by  steamer  to  White  House  Landing, 
where  the  exchange  would  be  made. 

"Dr.  Gulp,"  said  Boyd,  "should  the  fortunes  of 
war  ever  throw  3-ou  into  our  hands,  send  for  me, 
that  I  may  do  something  for  you,  to  show  my  ap- 
preciation of  your  many  kindnesses  to  me,  while 
a  poor  wounded,  demoralized  prisoner  in  your 
hands!     I  can  never  forget  my  obligation  to  you!" 

"Many  thanks.  Captain,"  replied  the  doctor.  "I 
have  no  wish  to  enjoy  such  an  experience,  and 
prefer,  greatly,  that  your  obligation,  as  you  term 
it,  should  remain  uncanceled.  But,  if  such  a  thing 
as  you  have  hinted  at  should  happen,  I  may  avail 
myself  of  your  kind  ofifer.  But  pray  don't  feel 
oppressed  by  the  weight  of  your  obligation.  Cap- 
tain." 

"By  the  way,  Doctor,  do  you  know  w4iere  are  my 
sword,  belt,  and  revolver?"  asked  Boyd. 

"I  really  do  not  know%  Captain.  Who  relieved 
you  of  them  ?" 

"I  do  not  know,"  replied  Boyd.  "I  was  not  in 
condition  to  observe  anything  at  the  time.  Do  you 
not  have  a  schedule  of  articles  taken  from  captured 
ofificers  ?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Dr.  Culp,  "I  will  go  at  once  and 
search." 

Search  was  made,  and  the  doctor  was  obliged 
to  say  that  he  had  no  record  of  the  articles,  and  did 
not  know  anything  concerning  them.  Miss  Long 
became  aware  of  the  loss,  and  was  disturbed  by  it; 
not  on  account  of  the  value  of  the  articles,  nor  be- 


EXCHANGED  93 

cause  they  belonged  to  Captain  Boyd ;  but  because 
of  the  inherent  meanness  of  the  theft.  She  de- 
clared that  they  should  be  found,  if  she  had  to 
search  for  them  all  over  the  Southern  Confederacy. 

Next  day  the  expected  steamer  rounded  up  at 
Richmond ;  a  long  double  line  of  Union  soldiers 
and  officers  marched  to  the  landing,  under  guard; 
and  a  little  way  off  stood  Miss  Long  and  a  few 
other  women  to  see  the  prisoners  embark.  Bitter, 
unfeeling  remarks  were  made  by  some  of  the  wo- 
men, but  not  a  syllable  did  she  utter.  Her  heart 
was  too  full  for  words,  and  her  uppermost  thought 
was — "shall  we  meet  again?"  With  eyes  fixed 
upon  Boyd,  between  whom  and  herself  glances 
were  frequently  exchanged,  she  was  painfully  aware 
that  the  vessel  was  to  receive  and  bear  away  the 
one  person  in  "the  wide,  wide  world,"  for  whom  she 
felt  a  deathless  interest,  and  the  keenest  apprehen- 
sion. Now  the  steamer  hauls  in  her  cables,  her 
wheels  revolve,  her  prow  turns  down  stream,  and 
she  is  away.  Two  kerchiefs  wave ;  one  on  the 
steamer,  the  other  on  the  beach ! 

Miss  Long  resumed  her  duties  in  the  hospital. 
Boyd  and  his  comrades  arrived,  and  were  ex- 
changed, at  White  House  Landing,  and  twenty- 
four  hours  later  he  was  in  Washington.  Having 
reported  to  the  proper  authorities,  he  was  granted 
a  sixty-day  furlough.  While  in  the  Capital  he  ar- 
rayed himself  in  a  new  suit,  sword,  belt,  sash,  and 
revolver;  then  paid  his  respects  to  the  President, 
and  that  grim  but  faithful  Secretary  of  War,  and 


94  THE  LAST  MAN 

revealed  all  he  had  seen  and  heard  relative  to  a 
prospective  movement  by  the  Confederate  Army. 
The  Secretary  and  his  trusted  assistants  were  not 
well  advised,  nor  apprehensive  of  the  movement, 
which  was  even  then  in  progress,  until  too  late  to 
relieve  or  reinforce  the  corps  of  Union  troops  which 
occupied  Winchester,  and  which,  after  waiting  for 
orders  or  relief  until  it  was  surrounded,  cut  its  way 
out,  with  a  loss  of  one-third  of  its  force,  under  the 
command  of  that  heroic  old  soldier.  General  Milroy. 
Then  began  the  movement  to  meet  the  Confeder- 
ates, resulting  in  the  battle  of  Gettysburg. 


IX. 

PROMOTION. 

It  has  been  said  that  "the  battle  of  Gettysburg 
fought  itself."  Thus  much,  at  least,  is  thought  to 
be  true ;  it  was  fought  on  ground  that  neither  of 
the  opposing  generals  had  chosen,  or  would  have 
chosen.  There  were  disadvantages  on  both  sides. 
When  the  combat  came  on,  it  was,  to  a  great  ex- 
tent, the  result  of  conditions  over  which  neither 
army  had  control.  Had  either  general  attempted, 
just  before  the  engagement,  to  change  his  position 
or  alignment,  such  change  would  have  been  the 
signal  for  attack  by  the  opposing  force,  with  im- 
minent danger  of  overwhelming  defeat,  a  disaster 
whose  magnitude  and  sequences  can  only  be  im- 
agined. Two  skilful,  powerful  pugilists,  with  fists 
up,  stand  face  to  face,  on  the  alert  to  seize  upon 
some  advantage  of  position,  or  some  accident,  or 
error  of  an  opponent.  Some  slight  circumstance, 
unlooked  for,  draws  the  first  blow,  and  the  fight  is 
on.    So  was  it  at  Gettysburg. 

Captain  Boyd,  anxious  to  see  a  battle — which 
one  cannot  see,  if  he  be  a  participant — ofifered  his 
services  as  an  aide-de-camp  to  the  commanding 
ofBcer,  General  Meade,  which  were  accepted,  and 
a  horse,  trappings,  and  field  glass  were  furnished 
him.     From  the  first  shock  of  battle  to  the  close 


96  THE  LAST  MAN 

of  the  three  days'  fighting  he  devoted  his  attention 
to  the  various  movements  and  counter  movements 
of  the  two  armies,  reporting  the  same  to  his  chief. 
The  doings  of  those  days  can  never  be  forgotten, 
and  perhaps  never  described.  Never,  at  least,  until 
another  Victor  Hugo  is  born,  to  perform  the  task, 
with  a  pen  of  inspiration  such  as  the  elder  Hugo 
wielded  in  his  description  of  Waterloo. 

On  the  third  day,  when  that  grand  charge  of 
General  Pickett  failed,  the  Confederate  Army  did 
just  what  it  ought  to  do,  because  it  was  all  it  could 
do,  retreated.  The  Union  Army  had  done  the  same 
thing  at  Bull  Run,  Fredericksburg,  Chancellors- 
ville,  and  the  seven  days'  battles  before  Richmond. 
The  substantial  difference  between  these  engage- 
ments and  Gettysburg  was  that  this  was  the  high- 
water  mark  of  Confederate  hopes,  efforts,  and 
valor.  Never  thereafter  did  they  succeed  in  push- 
ing into  the  North  any  considerable  force  with  a 
reasonable  prospect  of  success ;  and  ever  there- 
after were  their  hands  and  heads  kept  busy  with 
devices  and  efforts  to  defend  their  own  section 
against  the  constantly  increasing  and  successful 
attacks  and  inroads  of  the  Government  soldiery. 
Scarcely  had  the  echoes  of  the  guns  at  Gettysburg 
ceased,  when  tidings  of  the  surrender  of  Vicksburg 
came,  to  further  discourage  the  Confederates,  and 
invigorate  the  armies  of  the  Union. 

Captain  Boyd's  furlough  having  expired,  and  his 
health  being  completely  restored,  he  rejoined  the 
command,  then  resting  near  Fredericksburg,  Vir- 


PROMOTION  97 

ginia.  A  royal  welcome  was  tendered  him  by  his 
company.  Scarcely  had  their  congratulations 
ceased,  when  an  orderly  rode  up  and  delivered  a 
package  to  him.  On  opening  it  he  found  within  a 
commission  as  Major  of  the  regiment,  "for  gal- 
lantry at  Chancellorsville,"  so  read  the  document. 
Soon  after,  on  September  19th  and  20th,  the  fierce 
battle  of  Chickamauga,  Georgia,  was  fought,  and 
a  strong  detachment  from  the  Army  of  the  Poto- 
mac was  sent  by  rail  and  river  to  assist  in  a  grand 
movement  about  to  be  made  in  that  section,  and 
Major  Boyd's  regiment  and  brigade  formed  a  part 
of  the  detachment.  The  movement  culminated  in 
the  celebrated  battle  above  the  clouds,  at  Lookout 
Mountain,  and  the  raising  of  the  siege  at  Knox- 
ville,  Tennessee. 

The  movement  completed,  the  detachment  was 
transported  back  to  its  place  in  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac.  The  colonel  of  Boyd's  regiment  was 
now  permanently  detached  for  staff  duty  with  a 
major-general ;  the  lieutenant-colonel  was  made 
colonel,  and  Major  Boyd  w^as  advanced  to  the 
lieutenant-colonelcy. 

The  winter  of  1863-  64  was  the  severest  of  the 
war,  and  but  few  important  steps  were  made  in  the 
field  by  either  of  the  opposing  armies,  but,  instead, 
winter  quarters  were  sought,  or  built,  and  occupied 
without  murmur  or  discontent.  The  Government 
and  the  Confederates  were  not  idle,  however.  Great 
preparations  were  made  by  both  for  the  gigantic 
struggle  that   all   saw   was   tO'   come,   when   birds 


98  THE  LAST  MAN 

should  sing,  and  flowers  bloom  again.  The  forces 
on  both  sides  were  greatly  augmented  by  enlist- 
ments and  drafts  into  the  Union  armies,  and  con- 
scriptions and  impressments  intO'  the  armies  of  the 
Confederates.  The  plan  of  the  campaign  by  the 
Union  force  was  arranged  by  General  Grant,  and 
his  next  in  rank  and  command.  General  Sherman. 
On  May  ist,  1864,  the  two  great  armies  of  the 
Potomac,  and  of  Tennessee,  left  their  winter  quar- 
ters, moved  forward  and  struck  the  enemy  in  front, 
and  for  many  weeks  not  a  day  passed  that  did  not 
witness  a  greater  or  less  engagement.  The  Union 
armies  pushed  the  fighting.  It  was  their  plain 
duty,  and  the  only  road  to  ultimate  victory.  And 
thus,  not  until  Petersburg  and  Richmond  had  been 
invested  and  besieged  by  the  Army  of  the  Potomac, 
and  Atlanta,  Georgia,  had  capitulated  to  General 
Sherman,  was  there  pause  or  cessation  of  hostile 
demonstrations. 

After  the  fall  of  Atlanta,  there  was  projected  and 
set  on  foot  that  most  wonderful  of  modern  cam- 
paigns of  its  kind — "Sherman's  march  to  the  sea." 
Nothing  in  modern  times  has  approached,  much 
less,  surpassed  it.  It  will  be  recorded  in  the  tomes 
of  history  forever,  and  be  assigned  a  place  beside 
the  march  of  Alexander  the  Great  in  India ;  of  the 
crossing  of  the  Hellespont  by  Xerxes,  and  Napo- 
leon's passage  over  the  Alps.  Reaching  the  sea, 
at  Savannah,  on  or  about  Christmas,  1864,  the  foot- 
sore veterans  spent  a  period  in  rest,  renewal  of 
clothing  and  equipments,  and  preparations  for  one 


PROMOTION  99 

more,  and,  as  it  proved,  their  last,  campaign.  This 
began  in  February,  1865,  by  a  bold  movement 
northward  through  the  Carolinas.  Onward,  for- 
ward, the  triumphant  body  moves,  conscious  of  its 
power,  and  confident  of  the  unlimited  ability  of  its 
peerless  leader !  Now  it  fords  a  swollen  river ;  now 
clambers  up  and  over  hills  and  other  impediments ; 
and  now  captures  a  city  or  town,  lying  in  its  path, — 
harassed,  worried,  opposed,  by  its  enemy,  in  front, 
or  flank,  or  rear,  but  never,  save  once,  seriously 
impeded  or  endangered  in  its  progress,  until  its 
formidable  opponent,  commanded  by  Confederate 
General  Johnston,  was  brought  to  bay  and  sur- 
rendered. 

During  the  campaign  of  the  Army  of  the  Poto- 
mac from  the  "Wilderness"  to  the  environs  of 
Richmond  and  Petersburg,  heroic  deeds  and  spec- 
tacles were  of  almost  daily  occurrence ;  reconnois- 
sances  in  force,  flank  movements,  battles,  charges, 
reprisals,  and  all  the  other  thrilling,  because  un- 
locked for,  accidents  and  incidents  of  war  on  the 
grandest  scale.  One  result  of  such  a  campaign 
was  the  capture  by  both  armies  of  prisoners,  in 
squads,  companies,  and  even  entire  regiments. 
These  were  sent  away,  to  be  held  by  the  captors 
until  exchanged.  After  the  battles  of  the  "Wilder- 
ness," Spottsylvania,  and  Cold  Harbor,  a  body  of 
Confederate  prisoners,  as  large  as  a  full  brigade, 
comprising  all  ranks  of  ofificers  as  well  as  privates, 
was  to  be  guarded  and  marched  to  White  House 
Landing,   there   to  be   shipped   to   some   military 


100  THE  LAST  MAN 

prison  in  the  North;  and  it  fell  to  Lieutenant-Colo- 
nel Boyd's  regiment  to  perform  this  duty,  and  to 
deliver  the  prisoners  to  the  provost  guard  at  that 
place.  The  march  was  made  without  incident ;  but 
all  that  long  day  a  stripling  in  the  ranks  of  prisoners 
had  been  closely  observing  the  lieutenant-colonel, 
whose  name  he  had  accidentally  heard,  and  had  de- 
cided to  seek  an  interview,  when  the  march  should 
be  ended.  After  the  prisoners  had  been  delivered 
to  the  provost  guard,  and  were  corraled  safely,  one 
of  the  guards  addressed  the  colonel,  saying,  that 
a  prisoner  within  the  guard  line  desired  to  speak 
with  him.  Passing  into  the  enclosure  he  saw  ap- 
proaching a  tall,  slim,  gaunt  youth,  who  saluted  in 
true  soldierly  style,  and  stood  at  "attention." 

"Is  it  you  that  wishes  to  speak  to  me?"  inquired 
Colonel  Boyd. 

"It  is,"  said  the  youth. 

"Are  you  not  Colonel  Boyd,  commanding  the 
regiment  that  brought  us  here  to-day?" 

"I  am,"  said  the  colonel ;  "what  do  you  wish  of 
me?" 

"I  am  Bertrand  A.  Long,  of  Breckenridge's 
Division,  Jackson's  Corps." 

"Did  you  say  'Bertrand  A.  Long?'"  inquired 
Boyd. 

"Yes,"  said  he. 

"Where  was  your  home  before  you  enlisted?" 

"At  Gramercy,  West  Virginia,"  said  Long. 

"Is  your  family  still  there?"  pursued  Boyd. 

^'No,"  said  Long,  "they  are  all  gone.    Father  and 


PROMOTION  101 

mother  are  both  dead,  brother  died  in  prison  at 
Andersonville,  and  my  sister  and  I  are  the  only 
ones  left.  She  is  a  hospital  nurse  at  Richmond, 
and  here  I  am."  As  he  concluded  his  eyes  and 
voice  were  full  of  tears. 

"What  is  your  sister's  given  name?"  inquired 
Boyd. 

"Alena,"  said  the  youth. 

"Have  you  ever  been  to  Gramercy  since  you  en- 
listed?" asked  Boyd. 

"Never,  and  perhaps  I  will  never  see  it  again. 
When  the  war  ends,  and  the  South  is  independent, 
I  will  hunt  up  sister,  and  we  will  go  to  Richmond 
or  W^ashington  to  live — if  we  capture  Washing- 
ton." 

"Poor  fellow!"  said  the  colonel;  "the  South  will 
never  be  independent,  as  you  hope,  and  your  peo- 
ple will  never  capture  Washington.  Look  at  these 
comrades  of  yours.  There  is  a  squad  of  men,  none 
of  whom  is  less  than  fifty  years  old,  and  yonder  is 
a  bevy  of  boys  whose  average  age  is  not  more  than 
fifteen  years.  Your  available  forces  are  now  all  in 
the  field,  while  the  Government  has  yet  a  million 
of  robust  men  to  draw  upon.  No,  young  man,  the 
beautiful,  but  wilful  South  will  have  to  submit 
within  a  year." 

"Well,"  said  the  young  fellow,  "I  have  been  in 
twenty-three  big  fights  and  never  got  a  scratch, 
and  I  don't  believe  the  Yankee  bullet  or  shell  has 
ever  been  molded  or  cast  that  will  hurt  Bertrand 
Long." 


102  THE  LAST  MAN 

"Stop,"  said  the  colonel;  "you  are  too  good  a 
soldier,  and  have  seen  too  much,  to  talk  so.  You 
know  that  nothing  is  more  uncertain  than  life  in 
war  time.  You  are  safe  now,  and  will  be,  till  next 
spring,  perhaps,  when  you  will  be  exchanged  and 
rejoin  your  command,  and  you  and  I  may  be  killed 
in  our  last  battle." 

"That  is  true,"  said  Long;  "I  take  that  back.  I 
am  mighty  glad,  Colonel,  that  you  gave  me  a 
chance  to  speak  to  you.  And  if  I  ever  see  Sis 
again,  and  you  ever  see  her,  tell  her  that  Bertrand 
died  in  defense  of  what  she  and  I  thought  was 
right.  Poor  Sister!  what  will  become  of  her,  if  I 
am  killed." 

As  he  ceased  from  sheer  emotion,  Boyd  said : 

"Well,  Bertrand,  I  must  return  to  my  regiment. 
I  hope  we  shall  meet  again." 

The  men  shook  hands,  and  said  "farewell,"  and 
the  colonel  turned  to  depart.  He  had  gone  but  a 
few  steps,  when  suddenly,  from  amid  the  crowd  of 
prisoners,  there  sprang  at  him  a  wild-eyed  man, 
flourishing  aloft  a  villainous-looking  knife,  and 
crying,  "Kill  the  Yankee !  Kill  all  Yankees !" 
Quicker  than  thought  young  Long  darted  into 
space,  intercepted  the  would-be  assassin,  and  dealt 
him  a  terrific  blow  which  felled  him  in  an  uncon- 
scious, quivering  condition.  Guards  rushed  to  the 
spot,  and  secured  and  carried  the  man  to  the  guard 
house.  Boyd  was  overcome  with  gratitude  to  his 
preserver.  Rushing  to  young  Long,  and  grasping 
both  hands,  he  poured  forth  thanks  in  unmeasured 


PROMOTION  103 

terms,  and  proffered  any  and  all  assistance  he 
might  be  in  condition  to  render,  should  they  ever 
meet,  after  the  war  should  end.  He  finished  by 
thrusting  into  Long's  hand,  as  they  said  "good- 
bye" again,  a  wad  of  brown  paper,  which  the  young 
man  secreted  in  his  bosom.  The  incident,  from  be- 
ginning to  end,  was  so  unusual  and  so  dramatic 
that  it  brought  to  the  spot  all  the  prisoners,  and 
many  of  the  Union  soldiers  and  guards  whose  duty 
was  at  that  point. 

In  the  long  captivity  that  followed,  young  Long, 
tiring  often  of  prison  fare — though  good  of  its 
kind — would  at  times  send  out  and  buy  other 
articles  of  food,  with  portions  of  the  money  which 
he  found  rolled  up  in  that  wad  of  brown  paper.  He 
was  the  envy  of  all  his  mess,  and  was  often  twitted 
by  them  with  the  charge  of  waning  fidelity  to  the 
cause  of  the  South.  As  the  spring  of  1865  ap- 
proached, he  and  his  fellow  prisoners  were  trans- 
ported back  to  Virginia,  were  exchanged,  and  re- 
joined their  comrades  in  arms,  to  endure  again  the 
hard,  sad  lot  of  the  common  soldier.  The  Army 
of  the  Potomac  opened  the  campaign  by  a  charge 
all  along  the  enemy's  lines  from  Richmond  to 
Petersburg,  because  it  was  now  strong  enough  to 
do  so.  The  Confederate  Army  was  not  strong 
enough  to  repel  the  charge.  On  April  3d,  Rich- 
mond was  evacuated,  and  soon  after  their  entire 
line  of  works  was  abandoned,  and  then  began  the 
last  march,  a  retreat,  which  ended  in  the  surrender 
at  Appomattox.  The  news  of  the  surrender  reached 


104  THE  LAST  MAN 

the  armies  of  Sherman  and  Johnston  in  North 
CaroHna,  and  in  a  few  days  Johnston  surrendered 
to  Sherman,  and  the  greatest  war  of  modern  times 
was  ended.  Before  the  beginning  of  this  last, 
shortest,  and  sharpest  campaign,  Boyd  was  again 
promoted — this  time  to  the  colonelcy  of  the  regi- 
ment. 

Now  began  preparations  to  muster  out,  and 
transport  to  their  homes,  these  vast  armies.  An 
order  from  General  Grant  directed  General  Sher- 
man to  move  his  army  to  Washington.  A  similar 
order  was  sent  to  General  Meade,  commanding  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac.  The  armies  moved  by  easy 
stages,  and  in  the  latter  part  of  May  reached  and 
camped  on  Arlington  Heights,  overlooking  the 
Capital,  Vv^hich  most  of  them  had  never  before  seen, 
but  in  whose  defense  and  protection  they  had  been 
fighting  for  four  long  years.  Colonel  Boyd  gazed 
upon  the  city  with  more  than  ordinary  emotion.  It 
was  the  seat  of  Government ;  the  repository  of  the 
archives  of  his  country ;  and  the  place  whence  ema- 
nated all  laws  and  edicts  for  the  Government  and 
of  a  great  and  once  more  united  and  unified  nation. 
Thrice  had  he  seen  the  Capital  in  dire  danger  of 
capture  by  those  who  had  once  sworn  to  protect  it ; 
thrice  had  he  seen  a  beaten,  demoralized  army 
driven  into  the  defenses  of  the  city,  while,  with  pain 
and  indignation,  he  saw  on  hundreds  of  faces  of 
residents  a  gleam  of  fiendish  gratification,  over  the 
mishaps  and  defeats  of  the  army  organized  and 
operating  for  its  defense.     All  that  was  over,  now. 


PROMOTION  .      105 

and  the  Capital,  the  Government,  and  the  Nation 
were  safe. 

A  grand  parade  and  review  of  the  two  united 
armies  was  arranged.  Great  preparations  were 
made.  Flags  and  decorations  were  every\vhere. 
The  city  put  on  her  gala  attire,  for  her  knights 
were  coming.  On  the  western  front  of  the  Capitol 
was  displayed  an  immense  placard  upon  which  was 
printed  in  letters  so  large  as  to  be  read  at  the  base 
of  Capitol  Hill,  the  sentiment :  "Hail  and  welcome 
to  the  Nation's  victorious  defenders !  There  is 
nothing  too  good  or  too  great  for  the  Nation  to 
'Grant'  them !" 

The  review  consumed  two  flill  days.  Never  be- 
fore was  there  such  a  spectacle  in  the  new  world, 
and  never  again,  perhaps,  will  there  be  occasion  for 
a  similar  spectacle.  Tliat  grand  thoroughfare, 
Pennsylvania  Avenue,  the  scene  of  so  many  dis- 
plays, military  and  civic,  shook  beneath  the  rumble 
of  artillery  wheels,  the  hoofs  of  cavalry  horses,  and 
the  "tramp,  tramp,  tramp"  of  infantry.  Blasts  of 
bugles,  notes  of  bands,  and  noise  of  drums  fur- 
nished a  fitting  accompaniment  to  such  an  exhibi- 
tion. 

Had  that  powerful  aggregation  of  soldiers  taken 
it  into  their  heads,  at  this  moment,  they  could  have 
captured  the  Capital,  displaced  the  President,  and 
established  a  military  government,  or  a  monarclhy. 
Such  things  have  been  done.  The  act  would  have 
been  no  more  heinous  than  that  which  they  had 
just  suppressed  and  punished.     But,  in  the  same 


106  THE  LAST  MAN 

sublime  spirit  of  patriotism  which  had  led  them  to 
forsake  home,  happiness  and  business,  that  the 
nation's  life  might  be  preserved,  they  now  returned 
to  their  homes.  Not  a  single  outbreak  or  accident 
occurred  to  mar  or  disgrace  this  wonderful  disinte- 
gration of  a  great,  victorious,  veteran  army. 

Just  before  Colonel  Boyd  and  his  regiment  took 
cars  for  home  he  did  a  fitting  and  graceful  little 
act  which  caused  him  to  be  held  in  everlasting 
remembrance  by  at  least  one  individual.  His  ser- 
vant Sam,  who  had  been  with  him  from  1862,  and 
had  ever  been  faithful  and  trustworthy,  was  greatly 
grieved  that  the  relation  between  them  was  ended. 
Presenting  himself,  he  said : 

"And  now,  Cunnel,  what  is  poor  Sam  to  do? 
You'se  gwine  away  to  your  home,  and  I  has  no 
home,  no  kin,  and  nuffin  to  do." 

"How  much  money  have  you,  Sam?"  asked 
Boyd. 

"Dunno,  Cunnel ;  you  knows.  It's  all  in  with 
yourn.  Seems  to  me  its  somewhar  nigh  unto  five 
or  six  hundred  dollars." 

The  colonel  examined  his  bank  account,  and 
announced  the  amount  of  Sam's  deposit ;  went  with 
him  to  the  bank ;  drew  out  the  money,  and  had  him 
open  an  account.  He  called  the  cashier  and  tellers, 
related  Sam's  history,  and  requested  them  to  scan 
him  closely,  in  order  to  identify  him  thereafter. 
Then  taking  Sam  aside,  he  said : 

"Now,  Sam,  go  out  to  the  lands  in  the  north- 
west part  of  the  city,  not  far  from  the  President's 


PROMOTION  107 

house,  and  buy  as  many  acres  as  you  can,  and  hold 
it,  paying  the  taxes  as  they  fall  due,  and  wait.  The 
land  will  become  valuable  and  you  will  make 
money." 

Sam  did  as  directed,  and,  in  subsequent  years,  he 
disposed  of  city  lots  at  almost  fabulous  prices, 
securing  thereby  a  considerable  fortune. 


X. 

COGITATIONS. 

When  his  last  duty  to  the  noble  men  who  had 
served  with  and  under  him  had  been  performed, 
and  they  had  gone,  Colonel  Boyd  hastened  home 
to  his  anxious  mother  and  sisters.  Joy,  gladness, 
and  happiness  came  with  him.  Veterans  on  both 
sides,  and  their  dear  ones,  will  understand  this,  and 
no  words,  spoken  or  written,  could  enable  the 
younger  generation  to  appreciate  that  precious 
home-coming.  Sweet  home  words,  congratula- 
tions, and  kindnesses  occupied  the  time  for  days. 
But  with  these,  there  arose  thoughts  as  to  his 
future  career — whether  to  return  to  college  and 
complete  a  course  of  study,  and  adopt  a  profession, 
or  engage  in  business  of  some  kind,  and  settle  down 
as  a  private  citizen. 

But,  above  all,  and  dominating  all  other  thoughts, 
plans,  and  fancies,  was  one  which,  do  as  he  might, 
would  challenge  and  command  his  attention : 
"Where  is  Miss  Long?  Shall  I  seek  and  find  her, 
that  'we  may  meet  again,'  as  I  said,  when  last  we 
parted?"  And  the  next  question — a  corollary  to 
the  preceding — followed:  'Tf  found,  shall  I 
strive  to  win  her,  and  be  united  for  life,  'for  weal 
or  woe  ?'  "  What  if  she  had  forgotten  him,  and 
had  given,  or  would  give,  "her  hand  with  her  heart 


COGITATIONS  109 

in  it"  to  the  man  of  her  choice?  The  thought  gave 
him  genuine  pain,  such  as  he  had  never  felt  before. 
He  began  to  reaHze  that  hfe  would  be  a  dreary 
thing  without  her,  and  to  find  her  and  learn  from 
her  lips  his  fate  was  the  only  manly,  straightfor- 
ward course  to  take ;  and,  deciding  thus,  he 
became  impatient  to  begin  the  undertaking. 

Before  he  should  act,  however,  he  thought  his 
mother  and  sisters  ought  to  know  something  of  the 
matter.  They  had  observed  that  he  was  moody 
and  silent  at  times,  and  apparently  thinking  of 
something  which  he  had  not  seen  fit  to  divulge ; 
and  they  frequently  talked  of  it  when  alone.  But 
the  time  came,  at  dinner,  one  day,  when  he  said : 

"Mother,  what  would  you  think,  since  the  war 
is  over,  if  the  North  and  South  should  fall  in  love 
and  marry?" 

"What  a  question,  son !"  replied  the  mother. 

"What  a  conundrum !"  said  the  elder  sister. 

"What  a  funny  notion !"  said  the  younger. 

"Explain  yourself,  Alfred,"  said  the  mother. 

"Yes,  give  us  something  real  to  guess  at,"  said 
the  elder  girl. 

"Give  us  facts,"  chimed  in  the  younger. 

The  three  women  now  had  an  inkling  as  to  the 
cause  of  those  dreamy,  moody  moments,  when  the 
seal  of  absolute  silence  had  been  on  his  lips. 

"Well,  then,  to  speak  plainly,"  said  he,  "what 
would  you  think  if  I  should  seek,  and  find,  a  South- 
ern girl  to  my  taste;  and  should  fall  in  love  with, 


110  THE  LAST  MAN 

court,  win,  and  marry  her?  There,  now,  is  that 
expHcit  enough?" 

"Who  is  it?"     "Who  is  she?"  asked  the  sisters. 

"Could  you  not  do  as  well,  Alfred,  to  find,  court, 
and  marry  some  Northern  girl?"  ventured  the 
mother. 

"But  suppose  I  have  already  found  the  girl — a 
Southern  girl — and  that  I  love  her.  What  then?" 
queried  he. 

"Who  is  she  ?"  again  asked  the  sisters. 

"Yes,  my  son;  tell  us  all  about  her,"  said  the 
mother.  "I  am  greatly  surprised,  though,  that  as 
good  a  Union  soldier  as  you  should  take  a  fancy 
to  a  Southern,  secession  girl." 

"As  to  that,  mother,  I  agree  with  you  that  great, 
irreconcilable  differences  between  the  opinions  of 
a  man  and  a  woman  on  politics  or  religion  ought 
to  prevent  their  marrying.  But  I  have  a  notion 
that  this  little  w^oman  is  not  the  same  now  that  she 
was  when  the  war  began.  And  so  I  think  I  shall  go 
and  hunt  her  up  and  learn  the  truth  from  her,  as  to 
that,  and  other  important  matters." 

"O,  I  see,"  said  the  elder  sister,  "brother  is  over 
head  and  ears  in  love  with  her,  and  if  he  is,  why 
shouldn't  he  find  out  whether  she  cares  for  him? 
That's  what  I  would  want  a  man  to  do,  if  he  were 
in  love  with  me." 

"And,  brother,  if  you  find  that  she  loves  you, 
will  you  marry  her?"  asked  the  younger. 

"I  surely  w'ill  marry  her,  if  she  will  marry  me," 
answered  the  brother. 


COGITATIONS  HI 

Then  followed  questions  as  to  Miss  Long's  fam- 
ily, social  standing,  beauty,  acquirements,  and  per- 
sonal qualities,  to  all  of  which  he  gave  full,  truthful 
answers,  closing  with  the  statement  that,  if  he  had 
not  been  the  subject  of  this  young  woman's  devo- 
tion and  care,  while  he  lay  helpless  at  death's  door, 
he  would  not  be  with  them  to  tell  of  it.  "And," 
said  he,  '\vhen  we  parted  at  Richmond,  I  expressed 
the  wish  and  hope  that  we  might  meet  again." 

"And  where  is  she  now  ?"  asked  the  mother. 

"I  know  not,"  replied  he;  "but  I  shall  go  to 
Richmond  and  search  for  her." 

"Well,  Alfred,"  concluded  she,  "men  often  make 
the  mistake  of  a  lifetime  in  marrying  the  wrong 
woman,  but  I  hope  and  pray  that  you  may  make  no 
mistake." 

"When  are  you  going,  brother?"  asked  the  elder 
sister. 

"To-morrow,  Tuss,' "  said  he,  as  he  gently 
pinched  one  of  her  ears. 

"And  how  long  is  this  going  to  take?"  asked  the 
younger. 

"In  truth  I  cannot  venture  to  make  a  guess,  'Kit- 
ten,' can  you?" 

So  next  morning,  with  trunk  packed,  he  set  out 
on  this,  to  him,  a  new  tour  of  search,  and  possible 
discovery. 

"You  will  write  soon  and  often,  Alfred?"  inquired 
the  mother. 

"O  yes,  I'll  keep  you  well  advised  as  to  all  my 


112  THE  LAST  MAN 

doings.  The  mails  are  re-established  all  over  the 
South." 

Farewells  and  kisses  followed,  and  he  was  gone. 

Arriving  at  Richmond,  and  registering  at  a  hotel, 
he  began  the  search  without  delay.  First,  he  vis- 
ited all  the  hospitals  yet  remaining,  but  in  vain. 
Next  he  made  inquiries  of  people  who  had  been  in 
Richmond  all  through  the  war,  but  the  only  infor- 
mation gained  was  that  many  of  the  hospital  attend- 
ants had  gone  with  the  Confederate  Government 
and  Army,  when  the  city  was  evacuated.  Tlien  he 
consulted  the  city  directories,  but  they  were  several 
years  old,  and  useless.  He  then  applied  to  the 
police  force,  but,  being  new  men,  they  knew  nothing 
of  the  person  inquired  for. 

He  resorted  to  the  writing  and  mailing  of  a  note. 
After  two  days  it  was  returned,  unclaimed.  At 
last,  he  was  obliged  to  publish  a  personal  in  a  city 
paper,  couched  in  terms  thus : 

"If  Miss  Alena  Long,  formerly  connected  with 
the  hospital  service,  will  kindly  give  her  address  in 
this  newspaper,  she  will  oblige,  A  Friend." 

Next  day  the  paper  published  a  reply,  giving  her 
street  address,  but  nothing  more.  Within  an  hour 
he  stood  ringing  the  door-bell  of  the  designated 
humble  house;  a  sable  servant  opened  the  door, 
and,  learning  that  Miss  Long  was  within,  he 
directed  the  servant  to  say  that  the  "Friend"  who 
had  received  her  address  was  desirous  of  seeing  her. 


COGITATIONS  113 

The  servant  returned,  saying  that  Miss  Long  would 
be  in  very  soon.  While  waiting,  Boyd  looked  about 
the  room,  which  was  scantily  furnished.  On  the 
walls  hung  cheap  lithographs  of  President  Davis 
and  Generals  Lee  and  Jackson.  In  a  corner  stood 
an  army  rifle,  and  over  the  mantlepiece  hung  an 
old-fashioned  horse  pistol.  On  the  table  lay  some 
newspapers,  in  one  of  which  was  his  "personal" 
marked,  and  in  another  was  her  answer. 

Presently  there  was  a  rustle  of  garments,  and 
Miss  Long  was  again  face  to  face  with  Colonel 
Boyd.  The  same  bright-eyed,  cheery  young 
woman,  a  trifle  older,  but  all  the  more  womanly. 
Instead  of  hospital  attire,  as  when  he  last  saw  her, 
she  was  robed  in  a  gown  of  gray  stuff — cheap,  but 
neat,  and  fitting  her  fine  figure  like  a  glove.  Who 
is  gifted  to  portray  the  emotions  of  those  two,  at 
that  moment?  How  much  of  fearful  import  had 
happened  since  last  they  parted !  How  often  had 
each  imagined  and  feared  that  ill  had  come  to  the 
other,  of  which  no  tidings  had  come,  or  could  come, 
to  aching  hearts !  As  the  colonel  held  out  both 
hands  and  clasped  both  of  hers,  he  said : 

"As  you  asked  me  to  do,  Alena,  I  'took  good 
care  of  myself,'  and  here  I  am." 

Miss  Long,  at  a  loss  for  words,  simply  responded, 
in  trembling  voice : 

"I  am  so  glad !  Welcome,  Captain  Boyd !  I 
was  cautious  about  coming  in,  for  I  was  not  sure 
who  wished  to  see  me." 

As  eyes  looked  into  eyes,  a  volume  was  spoken 


114  THE  LAST  MAN 

that  lips  had  not  yet  dared  to  utter.  But  there  was 
no  "rushing  into  his  arms,"  nor  "swooning  on  his 
manly  bosom,"  nor,  on  his  part,  were  there  any 
ungainly  airs,  nor  advances  of  doubtful  gallantry, 
such  as  you,  good  father,  would  resent,  if  shown  to 
your  daughter.  It  was  a  hearty  meeting  of  old- 
time  friends — nothing  more.  At  least  they  tried  to 
think  it  was  nothing  more.  Being  seated,  at  his 
request,  she  gave  a  full,  circumstantial  account  of 
all  that  had  happened  to  her,  from  the  summer  of 
1863,  closing  with  the  evacuation  and  burning  of 
the  city. 

"Since  then,"  said  she,  "Auntie  and  I  have  been 
in  this  poor  little  house,  as  her  house  was  burned 
with  the  rest.  That  is  all,  and  now,  tell  me  of  your- 
self. Captain,  or  whatever  you  may  be." 

Boyd  related,  as  succinctly  as  possible,  the  events 
of  his  career,  and  closed  by  saying  that  he  had  just 
come  from  home  and  his  mother  and  sisters. 

"And  were  you  still  a  captain  when  the  war 
ended?"  asked  she,  hesitatingly. 

"No,  I  had  the  honor,"  said  he,  "to  be  advanced 
from  rank  to  rank,  until  I  became  a  colonel." 

"Just  as  I  expected,"  said  she,  with  animation. 
"I  always  felt  that  you  would  do  your  duty,  as  it 
seemed  to  you,  even  though  it  would  be  the  worse 
for  our  cause.  Allow  me  to  congratulate  Colonel 
Boyd." 

"Thank  you,  Alena.  And  as  you  have  men- 
tioned your  'cause,'  how  do  you  regard  it  now?" 

"O,  it  is  a  lost  cause,  and  must  remain  lost  for- 


COGITATIONS  115 

ever,"  said  she.  "We  took  it  up  honestly,  and  earn- 
estly, and  for  it  we  risked  all,  life  included.  But 
as  the  fates  so  ordained  that  we  failed,  I  surrender, 
and  accept  the  result  as  fixed  and  final." 

"And  do  you  propose  to  be  loyal  from  this  time 
forth?"  asked  he,  smiling. 

"Yes,  henceforth  and  forever,"  said  she,  smiling 
at  him. 

"Heaven  be  praised  for  that.  Alena,"  said  he. 

"Yes,  the  war  has  settled  all,"  said  she,  "and 
what  is  the  use  of  talking  about  it,  and  stirring 
one's  self  up  about  it?" 

"And  will  the  South,  especially  the  women,  ac- 
cept the  result,  as  you  do,  and  hereafter  show  love 
and  loyalty  for  the  Union  as  they  did  for  the  Con- 
federacy?" queried  he. 

"I  cannot  say,"  replied  she ;  "but  I  am  sure  they 
ought  to  do  so,  as  they  and  their  fathers,  brothers, 
husbands,  and  sons  will  be  obliged  to  live  within 
the  Union,  obey  the  laws,  and,  if  necessary,  help  to 
defend  it  against  all  foreign  foes." 

"Hurrah!"  said  Boyd;  "you  are  as  sound  and 
patriotic  a  woman  as  I  am  a  man,  Alena.  I  wish 
all  of  you  were  as  sensible  and  patriotic." 

"Thank  you.  Colonel.  I  am,  first  of  all  an 
American,  with  a  capital  'A,'  and  believe  in  my 
native  country  as  against  the  world !" 

As  she  spoke  these  words  her  eyes  glowed  with 
enthusiasm,  and  her  curls  shook  with  emotion. 

"Hurrah !  again,"  said  Boyd.  "I  aver  that  your 
loyalty  is  above  suspicion,  and  will  defend  it  against 


116  THE  LAST  MAN 

all  comers.  So  that  is  settled.  Now  may  I  change 
the  subject?" 

"O  yes,  as  you  please." 

"Have  you  any  prospects  or  plans  for  the 
future?" 

"None  whatever,"  said  she.  "Aunt  is  financially 
ruined,  and  all  I  have  is  about  five  hundred  dollars 
of  Confederate  money,  which  is  worthless,  and  we 
have  no  income  from  any  source,  nor  any  business 
in  prospect,  unless  it  might  be  a  lunch-room  or  a 
boarding-house." 

"Will  you  introduce  me  to  your  aunt?  I  want 
to  become  acquainted." 

"With  pleasure,"  said  she ;  "but  would  it  do  as 
well  to  wait  till  to-morrow?  Aunt,  poor  dear, 
would,  I  know,  like  a  little  time  to  prepare  for  such 
a  meeting.  She  has  never  seen  a  full-fledged,  good- 
humored,  live  Yankee  colonel,  and  I  want  to  pre- 
pare her  for  the  trying  ordeal." 

Laughing,  he  said,  "Very  well." 

"And  I  may  say  that  you  are  a  real  colonel,  may 
I  not,"  quizzed  she. 

"Certainly,  Alena.  But  why  do  you  lay  such 
stress  on  the  word  'real  ?'  " 

"Excuse  me  for  what  you  may  have  been  think- 
ing was  a  doubt  in  my  mind  as  to  your  true  rank. 
Down  here  we  have  two  kinds  of  colonels — the 
real  ones,  who  won  their  spurs  in  war,  and  the  other 
kind,  who  were  invisible  in  war,  but  are  now  invin- 
cible in  peace,  particularly  after  the  imbibation  of 
the  conventional  mint  julep," 


COGITATIONS.  117 

Boyd  laughed  heartily. 

"At  what  hour  to-morrow  shall  I  come?" 

"Would  three  o'clock  suit  you?" 

"Yes,  I'll  be  here  at  that  hour."  He  extended  his 
hand. 

"Wait  a  moment,  Colonel,"  said  she.  Retiring 
abruptl>-,  she  came  again  with  a  long,  tightly 
wrapped  bundle  in  her  hands,  which  she  extended 
to  him. 

''What  is  this?"  he  asked. 

"The  sword,  belt,  and  revolver,"  said  she. 

"And  you  found  and  kept  them,  all  this  time?" 
queried  he, 

"Found  them  ?"  repeated  she ;  "yes,  I  never  ceased 
to  search  and  inquire  till  I  found  them.  And  no 
one  but  you,  or  your  folks,  should  ever  have  had 
them  from  me." 

"You're  a  phenomenon,  Alena,"  said  he. 

"What  is  that?"  asked  she,  curiously. 

"Beg  pardon ;  you're  a  jewel,"  he  replied. 

"And  what  is  that?"  asked  she,  roguishly. 

"Excuse  me  at  present.  I  may  tell  you  at  another 
time,"  he  answered.     "But  how  can  I  repay  you?" 

"I  am  already  repaid." 

"Then  how  can  I  reward  you?" 

"I  am  already  rewarded." 

"How?"  asked  he. 

"By  seeing  the  lost  articles  in  the  owner's  hands." 

"Then  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?"  he  continued. 

"Do  nothing." 

"Well,  Alena,  you  are  an  enigma!" 


118  THE  LAST  MAN 

"And  what  is  that,  Colonel?"  she  asked,  her  eyes 
sparkling  with  fun. 

"An  enigma  is — is — well,  I'll  take  time  to  think 
till  to-morrow." 

"Till  to-morrow  be  it,  then,"  she  echoed.  "Good- 
bye !" 

"Good-bye !" 

Returning  to  the  hotel,  the  colonel  inspected  the 
revolver,  the  belt,  and,  last  of  all,  the  sword.  As 
he  drew  it  from  the  scabbard,  he  saw  attached  to 
the  hilt  a  folded  paper.  Releasing  and  unfolding 
it,  he' read: 

"Nov.  3,  1863. — This  sword,  belt,  and  revolver 
belong  to  Captain  Alfred  Boyd,  of  the  — th  Ohio 
Infantry,  who  fell,  wounded,  and  was  captured  at 
Chancellorsville,  May  5,  1863.  He  was  treated  in 
one  of  our  hospitals  for  several  weeks,  and  when 
released,  and  exchanged,  these  articles  could  not 
be  found.  x\fter  his  departure  I  searched  for  and 
found  them.  If  the  fortunes  of  war  result  in  his 
death,  or  mine,  I  charge  the  reader  of  this  to  adver- 
tise the  property,  so  that  his  mother  and  sisters 
may  recover  them.  Our  cause  needs  not  to  be 
aided  by  wronging  a  noble,  brave  man,  and  a  true 
gentleman,  as  I  know  Captain  Boyd  tO'  be,  even 
though  he  is  a  Yankee  and  an  enemy. 

Miss  Alena  Long, 
Hospital  Nurse,  Riclimond,  Va." 

What  a  volume  in  these  few  words.  What  food 
for  thought.  And  he  thought.  The  bells  rang  out 
the  midnight  hour  ere  he  ceased  to  pace  up  and 
down  the  narrow  confines  of  his  apartment. 


XL 

THE  TROTH-PLIGHT. 

Awaking  late  the  next  morning-,  the  first  subject 
that  engaged  Boyd's  thoughts  were  the  events  of 
the  previous  day,  and  his  musings  were  very  hap- 
pifying.  But,  before  all  other  business,  he  must 
write,  as  he  had  promised,  to  the  home  folks.  The 
missive  ran  thus : 

"Richmond,  Va.,  Sept.  lo,  1865. 

Dear  Mother  and  Sisters : — I  have  found  her ! 

Dutifully  yours,  Alfred." 

There  was  music  in  his  soul,  such  as  he  had 
never  heard  before.  There  was  sweet  content,  of 
such  delicious  quality  and  flavor  as  he  had  never 
even  dreamed  of. 

There  was  an  extension  of  his  mental  horizon, 
such  as  all  other  events  in  his  life  had  not  produced. 
He  now  knew,  as  never  before,  that  he  had  loved 
Miss  Long  from  the  beginning;  loved  her  for  her- 
self alone;  that  his  love  was  augmented  by  his 
kindness  to  her;  and  that  it  was  intensified  by  her 
devotion  to  him,  in  past,  eventful  years.  And 
she — she  must  have  loved  him,  or,  at  least,  have 
felt  a  sentiment  warmer  than  friendship  for  him, 
to  do,  and  sufifer,  and  wait,  as  she  had  done,  for 


120  THE  LAST  MAN 

his  coming.  How  should  he  learn  whether  she 
loved  him?  What  if  she  loved  another  man?  Or 
what  if  she  were  receiving  the  devoted  attentions 
of  another  man? 

Should  he  now  make  the  venture,  tell  her  of  his 
love,  and  ask  her  for  her  love  in  return?  Ah,  he 
must  know,  and  end  this  torturing  suspense.  He 
had  never  taken  part  in  a  love-making,  and  knew 
nothing  as  to  the  process.  Should  he  enter  upon 
the  matter,  at  the  meeting  this  afternoon?  Yes, 
he  would,  if  conditions  were  favorable,  but  he 
would  be  controlled  by  circumstances.  He  was  to 
meet  Miss  Long's  aunt,  who  might  prove  to  be  an 
important  factor  in  the  problem,  by  reason  of  her 
habits,  feelings,  wishes,  and  her  influence,  withal, 
over  the  young  woman.  He  would,  in  military 
parlance,  reconnoitre  before  making  an  advance. 

At  the  appointed  hour,  he  rang  and  was  admitted 
to  the  house,  which  now  looked  more  beautiful 
than  on  his  previous  visit.  Miss  Long  received 
him  cordially,  it  is  true,  but  with  a  certain  degree 
of  reserve,  which  he  jotted  down  mentally  as  an 
unfavorable  condition.  "Excuse  me  for  a  mo- 
ment, Colonel,  and  I  will  bring  aunt."  She  re- 
turned with  a  lady  of  middle  age,  on  whose  face 
were  tracings  of  trouble,  mental  suffering,  and  dis- 
appointment, combined  with  a  nameless  something 
in  her  manner  and  pose  which  betokened  better 
days,  long  since  past. 

"Aunt,"  said  Alena,  "this  is  Colonel  Boyd,  of 
whom  I  have  spoken  to  you.    He  is  in  the  city,  and 


THE  TROTH-PLIGHT  121 

has  done  us  the  honor  of  calling.  Colonel  Boyd, 
this  is  my  aunt,  Mrs.  Milgrove,  with  whom  I  am 
now  living."' 

"What  an  introduction!"  thought  Boyd.  "Po- 
lite and  almost  frigid  !    Not  a  favorable  condition." 

The  two  bowed  and  spoke  the  words  of  courtesy. 
The  lady's  mien,  words,  and  tones  of  voice  showed 
her  to  be  a  woman  of  culture,  and  of  high  former 
distinction,  and  he  conceived  a  very  favorable  re- 
gard for  her.  And  the  open,  frank,  manly  manner 
of  the  man  showed  to  the  experienced  eye  and 
judgment  of  Mrs.  Milgrove,  that  he  was  of  superior 
parts,  and  a  gentleman.  The  expression  of  their 
eyes,  not  less  than  their  words,  told  of  mutual  re- 
spect from  that  moment.  The  conversation  that 
ensued  revealed  the  following  facts  :  That  she  was 
a  sister  of  Miss  Long's  father;  that  she  had  been 
educated  at  a  woman's  college  in  New  York ;  that 
she  had  married  Mr.  Milgrove,  a  lawyer,  planter, 
and  influential  citizen  of  Virginia ;  that  he  had 
amassed  a  considerable  sum  of  money,  owned  large 
tracts  of  land,  cultivated  by  more  than  a  hundred 
slaves,  and  producing  a  large  income ;  and  that  he 
had  resided  in  Richmond,  in  a  beautiful  house,  on  a 
fashionable  avenue.  Further,  that  the  war  had 
swept  away  his  money,  ruined  his  farms,  and  freed 
his  slaves — all  were  gone.  And  last,  and  saddest 
of  all,  Mr.  Milgrove  had  died  on  the  battle-field 
and  her  brother,  Miss  Long's  father,  had  died  at 
their  house,  in  the  winter  of  1861-  62. 

What  wonder  that  this  lone  woman's  face  bore 


122  THE  LAST  MAN 

indelible  traces  of  grief  and  settled  sadness?  What 
wonder  that  her  tears  fell,  and  sobs  punctuated  her 
eloquent  but  plaintive  utterances?  As  she  closed 
the  recital,  Miss  Long-  said,  soothingly : 

"Auntie,  dear,  it  is  all  over,  now,  and  we  should 
try  to  forget,  or  endure  our  troubles  and  losses,  as 
best  we  may ;  knowing,  as  we  do,  that  nothing  can 
be  reversed  or  remedied." 

"Very  true,  Alena,"  said  she;  "I  have  often 
prayed,  and  the  prayer  has  been  answered,  that  I 
might  have  strength  and  grace  to  endure  to  the 
end.  Life,  after  all,  is  grief,  but  what  follows  is 
everlasting." 

Said  Boyd :  "I  have  heard  that  troubles  form 
the  greater  part  of  man's  lot,  and,  if  so,  I  suppose 
the  best  thing  one  can  do  is  to  endure  them,  get  all 
the  good  one  can  out  of  them,  and  so  live,  that 
when  one  goes  to  his  last  account  he  may  be  found 
worthy  to  enter  into  that  future  of  happiness  which 
is  free  from  all  trouble." 

"That  is  truth  itself,  Colonel,"  responded  Mrs. 
Milgrove,  "but  the  troubles  incident  to  the  war, 
the  blows  we  received,  as  well  as  those  we  gave  you 
Northerners,  were  so  unlooked  for,  so  unlike  any- 
thing else  we  had  ever  been  obliged  to  meet,  that  it 
is  hard  to  become  reconciled  to  them." 

"Very  true,"  said  Boyd,  "war  is  cruel, — always 
cruel,  and  should  in  my  opinion  never  be  invoked 
between  civilized  nations,  until  every  other  means 
of  adjusting  differences  shall  have  been  exhausted, 


i^HE  TROTH-PLIGHT  123 

and  then  only  when  a  great  principle  is  the  point 
at  issue  between  the  antagonizing  forces." 

"Yes,"  assented  Mrs.  Milgrove,  "war  often  costs 
many  times  more  than  the  value  of  the  matter  in 
dispute.  We  have  apparently  lost  all  but  our  lands 
and  our  honor.  Thank  Heaven,  these  are  yet  ours  ! 
By  the  way,  Colonel,  I  have  been  made  extremely 
sad  by  the  death  of  President  Lincoln,  for  I  had 
come  to  believe,  with  many  of  our  people,  that  he, 
like  that  glorious  General  Grant  of  yours,  would 
have  been  a  sympathizing  friend  to  us  poor  people. 
But,  Colonel,  this  is  poor  entertainment  for  you, 
and  as  you  two  friends  would  like  to  talk  of  'Auld 
larig  syne,'  perhaps,  I  will  retire.  Call  again,  when- 
ever you  wish,  while  you  remain  in  the  city."  She 
had  risen.  "Stay  a  moment,  please,  Mrs.  Mil- 
grove,"  said  Boyd,  his  face  all  ablaze,  "we  may  talk 
of  'Auld  lang  syne,'  but  I  wish  to  ask  your  per- 
mission to  talk  with  Miss  Long  about  her  and  my 
future,  if,  with  your  permission,  she  is  willing." 

Miss  Long's  face  was  now  ablaze. 

"Most  certainly  you  have  my  permission.  The 
young  lady  is  her  own  mistress,  yet  she  seems  to 
rely,  in  some  matters,  upon  my  'superior  judg- 
ment,' as  she  is  pleased  to  term  it.  Good  after- 
noon !" 

And  with  stately,  but  easy  courtesy,  she  retired. 

Said  Boyd :  "I  admire  your  aunt  greatly." 

"Do  you?"  echoed  Alena.  "Then  I  am  greatly 
pleased." 

"But  perhaps  my  admiration  for  her  is  but  the 


124  THE  LAST  MAN 

reflex  of  a  sentiment  I  entertain  for  her  niece,  eh  ?" 
said  he. 

"Now,  Colonel,  please  don't  dissipate  my  pleas- 
ure by  saying  that  your  opinion  of  aunt  is  due  to 
anything  else  than  her  own  dear  self." 

"Then  at  your  suggestion  I  will  leave  her  out 
entirely  at  present,  and  will  speak  my  opinion  of 
you,  alone,  Alena.     May  I  ?" 

Miss  Long's  tell-tale  face  betrayed  two  facts — 
consciousness  that  a  crisis  in  their  affairs  had 
arisen,  and  a  true  woman's  pleasure,  poorly  con- 
cealed, that  it  had  arisen.  Hesitating  for  a  mo- 
ment, with  eyes  downcast,  and  flushed  face,  while 
he,  standing,  gazed  upon  her,  earnestly  and  anx- 
iously, she  said : 

"Colonel  Boyd,  I  cannot  decline  to  hear  you. 
How  could  I  decline,  after  all  that  has  happened  ?" 

The  man  moved  to  her  side,  seated  himself,  and 
for  the  first  time  grasped  one  of  her  hands,  and, 
when  all  was  ready, — found  his  words  sticking  in 
his  throat  and  refusing  to  be  spoken !  At  last  he 
made  out  to  say : 

"Miss  Long, — Alena,  I  mean, — you  must  have 
seen,  if  you  did  not  feel,  that  I  have  had  a  prefer- 
ence for  you  above  all  other  women.  Have  you 
not?" 

"I  don't  know.  Colonel ;  I  have  known  that  you 
were  my  friend,"  said  she,  "but  as  to  your  prefer- 
ence, I  have  never  seen  you  in  company  with  other 
ladies.     How  do  I  know?" 

"I  mean  to  say,"  urged  Boyd,  "that  I  have  never 


THE   TROTH-PLIGHT  125 

had  a  preference  for  any  woman  but  you,  Alena. 
But  that  is  not  the  half  of  it.  May  I  tell  you  the 
other  half?     Then  you  will  know  all." 

"Certainly,  Colonel,  if  it  will  give  you  pleasure," 
answered  she. 

"I  never  'made  love,'  as  they  call  it,  to  any  wo- 
man but  my  mother,  Alena !"  he  blurted  out. 

"Good  boy  that  you  were,"  said  she. 

"And  I  don't  know  how  to  make  love  to  any 
other  woman,  in  any  set  speech  or  phrase,  or  by 
any  rule  of  polite  society." 

"Are  rules  for  love-making  good  rules?"  she 
quizzed,  naively. 

"I  don't  think  they  are,"  said  the  novice.  "At 
least  they  wouldn't  be  of  any  use  in  my  case,  for  I 
wouldn't  have  time  to  memorize  and  practice  upon 
them." 

"Nature  surpasses  art  many  times,  does  she 
not?"  suggested  the  lady. 

"Certainly  she  does,  Alena,  and  so  I  shall  follow 
nature.  Alena,  little  woman,  I  say  with  all  this 
heart  and  soul,  I  love  you,  and  you  only!  There ! 
that  is  the  other  half!" 

"O,  Colonel  Boyd!"  said  she,  as  she  made  an 
attempt  to  rise,  "isn't  this— sudden?  Haven't 
you  mistaken  our  friendship  for  love?" 

"No,  no!"  said  he,  impulsively.  "I  know  what 
friendship  is — know  it  well — but  this — this  is — a 
great  emotion  or  passion,  unlike  anything  I  have 
ever  felt  before,  or  ever  felt  for  any  one  but  you, 
Alena.     So  powerful  is  it  that  I  couldn't  control  it 


126  THE  LAST  MAN 

if  I  would,  and  so  sweet  and  intoxicating  is  it  that 
I  wouldn't  control  it  if  I  could !  Ah,  Alena,  I 
know  I  love  you,  and  you  only !" 

He  clasped  her  hand  more  closely,  and  bent  for- 
ward to  look  into  her  downcast  face  to  read 
therein,  if  it  were  there,  a  response  to  his  love. 
Silence,  almost  painful,  prevailed  for  several  mo- 
ments, and  then  he  ventured  to  ask,  with  a  true 
lover's  timidity  and  anxiety — 

"And  what  are  your  feelings  for  me,  Alena?" 

"You  know  how  I  feel.  Colonel,"  she  said. 

"How  do  I  know,  Alena?" 

"It  is  hard  for  me  to  tell  you,"  she  replied. 

"Why?"  pursued  he. 

"Because  it  might  seem  unwomanly  for  me  to 
tell,"  she  answered. 

"What !  Unwomanly  for  you,  Alena,  to  tell  me 
whether  you  love,  or  can  love  me?  In  my  way  of 
thinking,  it  is  impossible  for  you  to  say  or  do  an 
unwomanly  thing !  I  swear  it  upon  my  sword ! 
O,  do  tell  me  the  truth,  Alena!" 

"Must  I?"  she  asked,  trembling. 

"O,  no,  Alena,  I  don't  say  'must,'  but  do,  pray, 
tell  me,  now  and  here  and  bless  me,  or  send  me 
away  forever !" 

"O,  Colonel,"  replied  she,  "I  must  be  true  and 
frank  with  you,  I  see,  and  I  may  just  as  well  tell 
you,  once  and  for  all,  I  do  love  you  as  I  never 
loved  any  man  in  the  world !" 

"And  will  you  be  mine?"  quickly  came  his  pas- 


THE  TROTH-PLIGHT  127 

sionate  inquiry,  full  of  joy  and  hope,  as  his  arm 
softly  stole  about  her  waist. 

The  woman's  head  dropped  lower  and  lower;  he 
drew  her  to  him,  till  her  face  and  curls  rested 
against  his  manly  bosom ;  and  thus  entreated,  half 
opening  her  eyes,  moist  with  the  dew  of  a  maiden's 
first  and  only  love,  she  whispered : 

"Yes,  I  am  thine !" 

Now  it  was  all  told !  Her  whole  soul  was  in 
that  brief  sentence ;  and  if  true  marriages  are  re- 
corded in  heaven,  as  they  say,  the  recording  angel 
made  an  entry  at  that  sweet,  soulful  moment ! 
Boyd's  face  bent  to  hers,  and  a  kiss, — the  first  he 
had  ever  given  a  woman  not  a  relative,  and  the 
first  Alena  had  ever  received  from  a  young  man, — 
sealed  the  solemn  compact !  For  many  minutes 
they  sat  thus,  unconscious  of  the  flight  of  time — 
what  was  time  to  them  ? — until  long  slanting  shad- 
ows showed  that  the  sun  was  near  his  setting. 
Then  he  broke  the  silence : 

"I  should  go,  for  this  time,  dear,  but  before  go- 
ing, I  think  we  ought  to  tell  aunt  of  this, — this, — 
business.     Don't  you  think  so  ?" 

"O,  yes,"  said  Alena,  "I  hope  it  will  make  her 
happy,  too !     I'll  go  and  bring  her." 

When  the  two  returned,  Boyd  walked  briskly  to 
them,  and  softly  passing  an  arm  about  Alena's 
waist,  and  taking  a  hand  in  one  of  his,  he  said : 

"Aunt  Milgrove, — hoping  I  may  have  the  pleas- 
ure of  addressing  you  by  that  title  from  this  time 


128  THE  LAST  MAN 

forth — I  have  to  tell  you  that  Miss  Long  and  I  are 
in  love !" 

"Ah!"  said  Mrs.  Milgrove,  "I  felt  sure  of  that 
before  I  ever  saw  you." 

"How  so  ?"  asked  he. 

"By  what  I  had  heard,"  said  she,  glancing  at 
Alena. 

"And  we  are  plighted,"  said  he.  "What  do  you 
think  of  that?" 

"I  foresaw  that,  too,"  said  she. 

"May  I  ask  how  you  foresaw  it.  Aunt?" 

"I  knew  the  young  lady  loved  you,  though  she 
never  told  me  so,  and,  from  all  I  had  heard  about 
you,  I  felt  sure  that  you  loved  her,  though  you 
had  never  told  her  so,  and  that  you  were  not  the 
man  to  trifle  with  a  woman's  love,  if  she  did  not 
trifle  with  you.  Alena  would  not — could  not — 
trifle  with  the  love  of  a  gentleman,  and  this  is  her 
first  love  affair.  So,  putting  all  these  things  to- 
gether, I  foresaw  the  result.  It  is  natural,  and  is 
one  of  the  blessed  phases  of  life  that  is  never  re- 
gretted, come  what  may !" 

"Then  you  approve  of  what  we  have  done. 
Aunt?"  asked  he. 

"With  all  my  heart,  do  I  approve  it !  Blessings 
on  you,  my  niece  and  nephew!" 

"Thank  you.  Aunt,"  said  they,  together,  as  each 
in  turn  implanted  a  dutiful  kiss  on  Mrs.  Milgrove's 
now  radiant  cheek. 

"To-morrow,"  said  Boyd,  "we'll  talk  of  matters 
looking  to  our  marriage.     And  I  want  to  speak  of 


THE  TROTH-PLIGHT  129 

Bertrand,  too,  Alena.  But  wait  till  to-morrow; 
I  am  too  happy  to  think  of  anything  else  to-day. 
Good-night,  Aunt !  And  now,  my  idol,  a  parting 
kiss  !     Are  you  happy,  dear?" 

"Too  happy  to  find  words  to  tell  it !"  said  Alena. 

The  colonel  strode  forth  from  that  humble 
dwelling  a  happier,  prouder  man  by  far  than  when 
he  had  captured  a  redoubt,  or  won  a  battle  at  the 
head  of  his  regiment.  At  one  time  he  had  been  a 
conqueror,  at  another  time  a  captive,  but  now  he 
was  both  conqueror  and  captive.  True  love's  vic- 
tories ever  have  been,  and  ever  will  be,  more  won- 
derful than  the  victories  of  war.  Before  he  slept 
that  night  he  wrote  and  posted  the  following: 

"Richmond,  Va.,  Sept.  ii,  1865. 
Dear  Mother  and  Sisters : — I  told  her  I  loved 
her !    She  loves  me,  for  she  told  me  so !    We  are 
betrothed !  Lovingly,  Alfred." 


XII. 

THE  MARRIAGE. 

"Who  comes  oftener  than  I  ?"  said  Boyd,  in  his 
breezy  way,  as  he  was  received  by  Alena,  the  next 
afternoon.  "Another  example  of  the  force  of 
habit,"  he  added,  as  he  took  a  seat. 

"Yes,"  said  she,  "and  how  quickly  habits  are 
formed !" 

"As  in  the  present  case,"  added  he.  "Now,  dear, 
let  us  talk  business  for  a  little.  We  must  settle 
several  things,  and  the  first  and  all-important  one 
is  when  we  shall  be  married." 

"Are  you  in  a  hurry,  Colonel?"  asked  she,  quiz- 
zingly. 

"Now,  Alena,  dear,  will  it  suit  you  just  as  well 
to  leave  off  my  military  title  when  we  are  alone, 
and  just  call  me  Alfred  ?  There's  a  good  girl.  Of 
course,  when  in  company  you  can  give  me  my 
title,  or  simply  call  me  'Mr.  Boyd,'  as  you  choose." 

"Agreed,"  said  Alena.  "I'll  do  so,  and  it  seems 
better.  I  know  I  felt  relieved  when  you  ceased 
calling  me  'Miss  Long,'  and  simply  said  'Alena.'  " 

"Well,  that's  settled,"  said  he.  "Do  you  know 
anything  of  Bertrand,  Alena?" 

"No,  dear,"  said  she;  "we  have  never  heard 
of  him,  or  from  him,  since  the  fall  of  1862.  What 
do  you  know  about  him,  Alfred?" 


THE  MARRIAGE  131 

"Nothing,  since  June,  1864.  He  was  our  pris- 
oner then,  and  he  saved  my  life." 

"Do  tell  me,  Alfred ;  you  never  mentioned  this 
before !" 

Boyd  gave  a  full  account  of  the  incident,  of  Ber- 
trand's  heroic  act,  and  of  the  last  farewell  spoken 
by  them. 

"Possibly  he  was  in  the  surrender  at  Appomat- 
tox. I  will  advertise  for  him.  So  that  is  settled 
for  the  present." 

"Now  another  thing,  Alena;  what  is  your  aunt 
to  do  when  you  leave  her  and  go  with  me  ?" 

"Really,  I  had  not  thought  of  that,  xA-lfred.  Sup- 
pose we  talk  over  the  matter  with  her." 

"Yes,  that  is  the  proper  thing,"  said  he. 

Alena  brought  Mrs.  Milgrove  in.  She  was  look- 
ing very  happy,  because  they  seemed  supremely 
happy. 

"Aunt,"  began  Boyd,  "Alena  and  I  are  to  be 
married  ere  long,  as  I  hope,  and  I  would  like  to 
have  you  tell  me  how  I  can  serve  you,  so  that 
when  we  leave  you  may  get  along  comfortably,  if 
possible." 

At  this  suggestion,  Mrs.  Milgrove  repeated  what 
she  had  before  stated,  that,  of  the  three  farms 
owned  by  Mr.  Milgrove,  one  was  somewhere  in 
Alabama  in  the  cotton  belt,  and  the  other  two  lay 
west  of  Richmond.  She  knew  nothing  of  the  first, 
except  its  location,  but  the  two  Virginia  farms 
were  ruined ;  the  buildings  and  fences  all  gone,  and 
the  entire  surface  covered  with  a  dense  growth  of 


132  THE  LAST  MAN 

young  pines,  so  that  the  land  was  quite  valueless. 
She  could  not  undertake  to  restore  the  farms  to  a 
cultivable,  paying  condition,  and,  for  the  reasons 
mentioned,  and  the  dearth  of  money  among  the 
people,  the  possibility  of  selling  them  was  remote, 
to  say  the  least. 

Boyd  suggested  that  the  Virginia  farms  might 
be  leased  for  a  term  of  years,  which  would  bring 
her  an  income,  and  improve  and  enhance  the  value 
of  the  land. 

"But  how  would  I  go  about  it.  Colonel?"  asked 
she.  "I  have  no  knowledge  of  business,  and  would 
make  sorry  work  of  it  if  I  should  go  down  to  the 
farms  and  try  to  lease  them." 

"I  am  not  surprised  at  that.  Aunt,"  said  Boyd. 
"But  I  am  advised  that  a  number  of  Northern  men 
have  come  to  this  and  other  points,  seeking 
to  make  investments  of  various  kinds,  including 
farms.  If  such  men  can  be  found,  they  would  take 
a  lease  on  the  farms,  put  them  in  first-class  condi- 
tion, and  soon  enjoy  a  revenue  from  them.  Now, 
Aunt,  if  you  feel  like  doing  so,  you  can  give  me  a 
power  of  attorney  to  transact  this  business  for  you, 
and  I  will  go  to  work  at  once." 

The  power  of  attorney  was  given  next  day,  and, 
to  cut  the  account  short,  within  a  fortnight  the 
farms  were  leased,  for  five  years  from  January  i, 
1866,  at  a  good  annual  rental,  payable  quarterly  in 
advance. 

As  the  lessees  left  the  house,  Alena  said : 

"Auntie,  you  can  always  trust  a  Yankee  to  make 


THE  MARRIAGE  133 

a  good  bargain,  if  nothing  else,  and  in  the  shortest 
possible  time,  too !" 

"Do  you  allude  to  me,  young  woman?"  asked 
Boyd.  "Quite  complimentary,  my  dear,  but  I 
rather  think  I  deserve  it,  for  I  know  I  made  a 
good  bargain  some  days  ago,  and  in  a  short  time, 
too,  by  the  clock,  but  it  seemed  like  an  age  to  me, 
measured  by  my  feelings !" 

All  laughed,  but  Alena  retorted :  "O,  you  rogue, 
I  didn't  mean  that,  I  meant  the  farms." 

During  the  period  just  passed  there  appeared 
in  a  daily  paper  the  following  personal : 

"If  any  person  can  give  information  as  to  the 
whereabouts  of  Bertrand  Long,  late  of  the  Confed- 
erate States  Army,  he  will  confer  a  great  favor,  and 
will  receive  the  heartfelt  thanks  of  the  young  man's 
sorrowing  sister.     Address,  'Sister,'  this  office." 

But  no  response  ever  came,  and  the  sad  conclu- 
sion that  Bertrand  was  dead  forced  itself  upon 
Alena's  mind,  and  that  he  had  probably  been  killed 
in  the  closing  battles  of  the  war. 

The  old  adage,  "The  course  of  true  love  never 
runs  smooth,"  was  not  exemplified  in  Colonel 
Boyd's  case,  unless  the  little  episode  now  to  be 
described  may  be  accepted  as  a  little  ripple,  or 
whirlpool,  in  the  current  of  his  love. 

One  morning  a  note  addressed  to  Miss  Long 
was  brought  to  her  by  a  colored  boy,  which  ran 
thus : 


134  THE  LAST  MAN 

"Richmond,  Sept.  lo,  1865. 
Miss  Long : — I  saw  you  at  a  hospital,  after  the 
battle  of  Chancellorsville,  while  I  was  a  patient 
there,  and  noticed,  with  feelings  of  envy,  that  a 
certain  Yankee  officer,  who  was  wounded  and  a 
prisoner  there,  required  and  received  much  of  your 
attention  and  kind  offices.  His  name  is  Colonel 
Boyd,  and  I  understand  he  is  now  in  the  city,  and 
is  paying  his  addresses  to  you.  I  have  this  to  pro- 
pose, that,  if  his  attentions  are  not  agreeable,  you 
will  let  me  know,  and  you  shall  not  be  further  an- 
noyed. Southern  ladies  have  ever  been  disposed 
to  indicate  a  preference  for  Southern  gentlemen, 
and  I  trust  that  you.  Miss  Long,  are  not  an  excep- 
tion. Hoping  to  have  the  honor  of  receiving  a 
reply  by  the  bearer,  I  remain, 
Yours  loyally, 

Col.  J.  Ardmore  Paden." 

Alena  directed  the  boy  to  wait  outside,  closed 
the  door,  called  her  aunt,  and,  after  a  few  moments 
of  colloquy  between  them,  returned  the  note  to  the 
messenger  without  reply.  This  was  carefully  kept 
from  Boyd. 

The  next  day  Colonel  Boyd  received  a  note  from 
the  same  source,  and  of  the  same  tenor,  closing 
with  the  announcement  that  he,  Colonel  Paden,  had 
conceived  a  consuming  passion  for  Miss  Long,  and 
intended,  with  her  consent,  to  solicit  her  hand  and 
heart,  and  if  she  should  favor  his  suit,  he  desired 
to  serve  notice  on  Colonel  Boyd  that  any  further 


THE  MARRIAGE  135 

attentions  to  the  lady  would  not  be  permitted  nor 
tolerated,  and  ending  with : 

"Colonel  Boyd  is  a  soldier,  as  I  am,  and  will 
comprehend  the  full  import  of  this  note. 
Very  respectfully, 

Col.  J.  Ardmore  Paden." 

Boyd  returned  the  following  answer : 

"September  ii,  1865. 
Sir: — Your  note  of  this  morning  received  and 
considered.  I  appreciate  your  preference  for  Miss 
Long,  and  consider  it  an  evidence  of  superior 
taste.  But  I  cannot  agree  that  you  should  have  the 
exclusive  privilege  of  addressing  the  lady,  unless 
she  has  given  notice  to  you  or  me,  or,  in  some 
way,  indicated  that  she  prefers  you  to  me,  in  which 
case  I  should  willingly  and  cheerfully  desist  from 
any  further  attentions.  Will  not  Colonel  Paden 
agree  with  me  that  such  would  be  the  proper  and 
amicable  way  of  settling  the  matter?  And,  if  the 
lady  will  intimate,  or  has  intimated,  her  preference, 
as  between  us,  will  Colonel  Paden  abide  her  de- 
cision, as  will  Yours,  very  respectfully. 

Col.  Alfred  Boyd." 

Next  day  witnessed  a  coming  together  of  the 
two  men,  when  Boyd  made  a  frank  averment,  on 
the  honor  of  a  soldier,  that  Miss  Long  and  he  were 
afifianced.  Colonel  Paden  accepted  the  statement, 
grew  friendly,  and  finished  by  congratulating 
Boyd.     And  thus  by  the  exercise  of  good  taste  and 


136  THE  LAST  MAN 

common  sense,  a  matter  of  moment  to  both  men 
was  satisfactorily  and  cordially  settled,  which,  un- 
der less  prudent  counsel  and  management,  might 
have  degenerated  into  a  resort  to  the  code  duello. 

But  now  that  all  other  matters  are  disposed  of, 
comes  up  the  first,  last,  most  important  of  all — 
their  marriage,  and  the  time,  place  and  circum- 
stances under  which  it  shall  occur.  After  much 
conversation  it  is  definitely  settled  that  they  will 
marry  about  October  ist,  at  either  Washington 
or  Alexandria,  and  without  pomp  or  circumstance, 
and  that  as  soon  thereafter  as  convenient  the  bride 
and  groom  will  go  by  railway  to  his  home,  while 
Mrs.  Milgrove  will  return  to  her  home  in  Rich- 
mond. 

To  all  the  arrangements,  except  going  to  Wash- 
ington, the  aunt  consented,  and  at  length  her  ob- 
jections being  overcome  by  the  two  youthful  en- 
thusiasts, she  consented  to  that  arrangement  also. 

One  morning  Boyd  packed  his  trunk,  kissed 
Alena  and  the  aunt,  and  was  off  for  Washington. 
Within  three  days,  by  arrangement,  Alena,  Mrs. 
Milgrove  and  her  servant  joined  him,  and  were 
quartered  in  a  suite  of  delightful  rooms  in  a  first- 
class  private  boarding  house,  while  Boyd  remained 
at  his  hotel.    He  wrote  home  thus  : 

"Washington,  D.  C,  Sept.  20,  1865. 
Dear  Home  Folks : — We  are  to  be  married  soon. 
Will  write  you  when  the  day  is  fixed. 

Lovingly,  Alfred." 


THE  MARRIAGE  137 

To  say  that  the  two  ladies  were  busy  for  the 
next  ten  days  would  be  stating  it  mildly,  too 
mildly.  Of  all  occupations  and  amusements  of  the 
fair  sex,  none  is  so  interesting  as  the  preparations 
for  a  marriage,  except  the  marriage  itself.  Shop- 
ping, gowns,  wraps,  bonnets,  hats,  footgear,  lin- 
gerie, lotions,  powders,  trunks,  satchels,  bags,  and 
a  hundred  other  things  give  them  ceaseless  and 
tiresome  but  delightful  labor,  never  complete  till 
the  tired,  trembling  girl  is  a  bride.  Rightly,  too, 
for  the  greatest,  and,  as  it  should  be,  the  happiest 
event  in  a  woman's  life  is  honorable,  irrevocable 
marriage.  The  candidate  and  her  young  lady 
friends  feel  this,  her  married  lady  friends  know  it. 
Besides,  there  is  a  glamour  about  the  marriage 
altar  and  the  marriage  vow  that  pertains  to  no 
other  institution  or  ceremony. 

During  the  era  of  preparation,  the  day,  the  hour 
and  the  place  for  the  marriage  had  been  fixed. 
October  loth,  at  high  noon,  in  that  ancient  chapel, 
Christ  Church,  in  Alexandria,  Virginia,  where  the 
Father  of  his  Country  formerly  sat,  and  knelt,  and 
worshiped !  The  day  arrived,  as  such  days  do, 
and  the  three,  together  with  Mrs.  Milgrove's  ser- 
vant, and  Tom,  the  colonel's  old-time  servant,  went 
by  boat  to  Alexandria.  It  may  be  said  in  passing 
that  the  two  servants  enjoyed  the  scene  so  well 
that  in  a  few  weeks  after  they  too  were  wedded. 
Standing  at  the  altar,  as  were  Boyd  and  Miss 
Long,  when  the  rector,  robed  and  dignified,  asked : 
"Who  giveth  this  woman  away?"  no  one  replied. 


138  THE  LAST  MAN 

"Is  there  no  one  here  to  perform  this  office?" 
asked  he. 

Aunt  Milgrove  replied :  "The  woman  has  no 
male  relative,  here  or  elsewhere,  so  far  as  is  known, 
to  do  this  office." 

"It  matters  not,"  said  the  rector.  "The  first  wo- 
man that  the  Lord  made  had  no  one  'to  give  her 
away,'  so  she  gave  herself  away,  and  thus  must  this 
her  daughter  do."  Then  came  the  words,  "With 
this  ring  I  thee  wed,"  and  then,  "What  God  hath 
joined  together,  let  no  man  put  asunder." 

It  was  done,  and  "they  twain  were  made  one 
flesh." 

After  congratulations,  the  rector,  who  had  laid 
aside  his  robes,  asked  Boyd  what  induced  him  to 
come  from  Washington  to  be  married  there.  Boyd 
replied  : 

"In  this  church  the  Father  of  our  Country  wor- 
shiped. It  seemed  to  me,  and  to  my  wife,  and  to 
aunt,  a  beautiful  as  well  as  a  grateful,  sacred  thing 
to  celebrate  our  nuptials  here." 

The  rector  was  highly  pleased  with  the  groom's 
patriotism  and  good  taste,  and  proceeded  to  show 
him  all  the  curios  and  relics  in  and  about  the 
consecrated  place.  They  sat  in  the  pew  which 
Washington  had  occupied,  looked  at  the  ancient 
candelabra,  formerly  used  in  lighting  the  church; 
saw  and  read  the  title  of  incorporation  of  the 
church,  nearly  a  century  old,  and  examined  with 
interest  all  other  matters  and  things  so  carefully 


THE  MARRIAGE  139 

preserved  and  so  reverently  exhibited.  Adieus 
were  then  said  and  the  party  returned  to  Wash- 
ington. 

That  evening  our  new  benedict  wrote  and  mailed 
the  following: 

"Washington,  D.  C,  October  loth. 
Dear  Mother  and  Sisters : — We  were  married  at 
12  o'clock  to-day  in  the  church  where  Washington 
was  a  member  and  worshiped.  The  North  and 
South  are  again  united.  Look  for  us,  we  are  com- 
ing. Loyally  yours,  Alfred." 

Two  or  more  days  were  spent  in  the  Capital  in 
sight-seeing.  Even  so  long  ago  as  1865  the  city 
was  rich  in  objects  of  interest.  There  is,  in  this 
vast  country,  teeming  as  it  does  with  a  multitude 
of  wonders,  but  one  great  Monument,  one  Capitol, 
and  one  Washington. 

On  a  beautiful  October  morning  Aunt  Milgrove, 
with  tears  in  her  eyes,  but  joy  in  her  heart,  kissed 
the  happy  young  people,  promised  to  visit  them, 
and  the  sweet  old-fashioned  good-byes  were 
spoken  and  she  and  her  servant  were  off  for  Rich- 
mond. A  few  days  later  Boyd  and  wife  boarded 
a  railway  train  for  Ohio,  and  in  due  time,  without 
incident,  arrived  at  his  boyhood  home. 

His  mother,  after  planting  an  enthusiastic,  moth- 
erly kiss  on  the  cheek  of  her  son,  glided  to  the 
blushing,  sweet-faced  girl  at  his  side,  embraced, 
kissed  and  caressed  her  as  though  she  were  an 


140  THE  LAST  MAN 

own,  only  daughter.  The  two  sisters  followed  the 
mother's  example.  White-winged  peace  spread 
her  pinions  over  a  once  more  united  household, 
and  the  stars,  far  above,  shone  their  brightest,  and 
twinkled  welcomes  to  the  successful  wooer  and 
his  bonny,  blushing  bride. 


XIII. 

THE  FIERY  FURNACE. 

After  a  fortnight  of  connubial  bliss,  Boyd  said : 

"Alena,  suppose  we  visit  your  old  home.  Shall 
we?" 

"Certainly,"  said  she.  "Though  it  will  be  sad 
in  some  respects,  yet  I  am  anxious  to  see  the  old 
town,  the  old  house,  and  the  spot  where  mother 
lies." 

"Can  we  go  to-morrow?" 

"O,  yes,  I  am  ready  whenever  it  suits  you,  Al- 
fred," she  responded. 

Next  day  they  took  the  boat,  and  in  due  time 
reached  the  vicinity  of  Galliput.  As  the  familiar 
old  hills  and  valleys  came  into  view,  one  after 
another,  gladness  and  sadness  commingled  equally 
in  her  mind — gladness  that  she  should  revisit  the 
home  of  her  childhood  under  such  changed  and 
improved  conditions,  and  sadness  as  thoughts  of 
her  mother  took  possession  of  her  memory  and 
emotions.  Now  the  steamer  has  sighted  Gram- 
ercy,  and  now  it  is  "rounding  in"  for  the  landing, 
to  put  them  ashore.  As  they  set  foot  on  land,  and 
are  waiting  for  their  luggage  to  be  brought  ashore, 
a  bevy  of  seedy-looking  men  on  the  bank  are  ob- 
serving them.  One  of  these,  clad  in  Confederate 
gray,  said: 


142  THE  LAST  MAN 

"Say,  fellows,  if  there  isn't  Alena  Long !  Look 
at  that  face  and  them  eyes.  And  so  she's  got 
back,  too.  I  wonder  where's  she's  been,  and  who 
that  big  fellow  is?" 

"No,  it  isn't  her,  neither,"  said  another.  "Alena 
Long  had  curls,  and  that  girl  hasn't,  don't  you 
see?" 

"Go  up  and  speak  to  her,  Jim,  and  find  out,"  said 
a  third. 

Jim,  hat  in  hand,  came  up  and,  bowing  in  a  rus- 
tic fashion,  said : 

"Isn't  this  Alena  Long?" 

The  young  wife,  looking  kindly  at  the  man  said : 

"Yes,  I  am  she  that  used  to  be  Miss  Long." 

"That's  what  I  told  them  fellows,  and  they  said 
it  wasn't  you.  But  if  you  ain't  Miss  Long  now, 
who  are  you?"  inquired  Jim. 

"This  gentleman's  wife,"  replied  she. 

The  luggage  having  come  ashore,  Jim  proffered 
to  carry  it  to  the  hotel  where  they  were  to  abide 
during  their  visit.  For  the  service  Boyd  rewarded 
him  liberally,  and  within  an  hour  he  and  his  friends 
celebrated  the  occasion  by  becoming  uproariously 
intoxicated. 

The  news  of  Alena's  return  spread  through  the 
village  with  lightning-like  rapidity,  and  before  din- 
ner was  over  a  number  of  women,  old  and  young, 
came  to  see  the  brave  girl  who  had  dared  and  sur- 
vived perils  that  might  appall  the  heart  of  the 
bravest  man. 

As  they  listened  to  the  story  of  her  flight  from 


THE  FIERY  FURNACE  143 

home,  by  night,  over  the  mountains,  in  mid-winter, 
of  her  services  to  the  sick,  wounded  and  dying;  of 
the  many  eyes  she  had  closed  in  death ;  of  the  cru- 
cifixion of  her  hopes  for  the  triumph  of  secession; 
of  her  almost  penniless  condition  at  times ;  and  of 
her  heroic  maintenance,  through  all,  of  her  wo- 
manly soul  and  all  its  attributes,  the  little  audience 
shed  copious  tears  of  sympathy  for  her  sufferings 
and  of  gladness  for  her  wonderful  deliverance. 

Alena  had  studiously  avoided  any  reference  to 
Colonel  Boyd  in  her  narrative.  He,  at  the  time, 
was  outside,  walking  about,  and  the  visitors,  by 
their  looks  at  him,  by  their  glances  at  each  other, 
and  hints  to  Mrs.  Boyd,  indicated  that  they  were 
overcharged  with  curiosity  to  know  who  he  was, 
when  and  where  she  became  acquainted  with 
him,  how  they  came  to  fall  in  love,  if,  indeed  such 
a  thing  had  happened,  when  and  where  they  were 
married,  if,  indeed,  that  had  taken  place,  and  where 
they  were  living,  or  were  going  to  live.  For  all 
had  heard  through  loquacious  Jim  that  she  was 
this  man's  wife.  Alena  knew  intuitively  what  they 
desired  to  know,  but  the  interview  closed  without 
the  coveted  information.  The  audience,  though 
small,  was  too  miscellaneous  to  be  made  the  re- 
cipients of  her  heart's  history.  But  during  the 
sojourn  there  she  related  to  a  few  chosen  old-time 
friends  the  whole  story  of  their  love,  and  taking 
several  of  them  with  her  to  the  old  house,  now  de- 
serted, she  said,  sweetly :  "Here  it  began,  but 
neither  of  us  knew  then  that  it  was  the  beginning." 


144  THE  LAST  MAN 

A  sad  incident — the  only  sad  one  of  their  visit — 
occurred  at  her  mother's  grave.  There  it  was, 
with  nothing  but  a  fast-decaying  wooden  head- 
board to  mark  the  spot  beneath  which  reposed 
those  sainted  ashes !  No  husband,  no  child,  no 
relative  was  buried  there.  The  floodgates  of  the 
loyal  daughter's  tears  were  opened,  and  she  wept 
long  and  bitterly,  while  her  sympathizing  husband 
stood  with  his  strong  arm  about  her  swaying  form 
and  silently  mingled  his  tears  with  hers.  When 
all  was  over  and  they  walked  away  slowly  and 
sadly,  he  said  soothingly  that  the  grave  should  be 
enclosed  and  cared  for.  A  beautiful  marble  monu- 
ment now  surmounts  the  spot,  and  the  lot  is  en- 
closed by  a  substantial,  tasteful  iron  fence. 

While  on  this  visit  a  chance,  or  what  seemed  to 
be  a  chance,  presented  itself  to  Boyd  to  engage  in 
business  in  the  valley  of  the  Great  Kanawha  River. 
Operations  in  the  mining  and  sale  of  coal,  and  the 
manufacture  and  sale  of  salt  offered  flattering  in- 
ducements. New  companies  were  organizing,  and 
old  ones  preparing  for  more  extensive  business  in 
these  seemingly  lucrative  and  permanent  enter- 
prises. When  the  visit  to  Gramercy  ended,  Boyd 
and  his  wife  took  steamer  for  Charleston,  West 
Virginia,  and,  on  arriving,  he  visited  several  of  the 
companies,  yet  in  the  formative  stage,  studied  their 
plans,  prospects  and  inducements,  and  became  a 
member  and  stockholder  in  one  of  them,  deposited 
several  thousand  dollars  in  the  concern,  and  was 
elected  treasurer. 


THE  FIERY  FURNACE  145 

Then,  after  a  brief  visit  to  his  mother  and  sisters, 
they  returned  to  the  Kanawha  Valley  and  became 
residents  of  the  village  of  Melrose. 

The  company  immediately  began  the  boring  of 
salt  wells,  building  of  tanks  and  sheds  for  the 
manufacture  of  salt,  and  the  opening  of  mines  of 
coal.  Outlays  of  money  were  great,  but  before 
midwinter  the  company  was  able  to  exhibit  quan- 
tities of  newly  made  salt,  and  to  ship  consignments 
of  it  to  distant  points  on  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi 
Rivers,  together  with  a  fleet  of  flats  laden  with 
coal.  Prices  were  good,  the  demand  exceeding  the 
supply  furnished  by  all  the  companies,  and  all 
made  money  rapidly.  As  their  profits  came  in 
they  decided  to  invest  them  in  a  further  extension 
of  the  business.  Thus  matters  ran  for  some  years, 
in  an  apparently  prosperous  condition.  Well 
would  it  have  been  for  Boyd  and  his  company  had 
they  sold  out  their  entire  plant  at  the  high  figures 
offered  them  several  times  during  this  period. 

The  bitter  and  the  sweet  in  life  are  often  won- 
derfully commingled.  When  fortune  in  money- 
getting  is  uniformly  favorable,  and  fame  or  great- 
ness is  "thrust  upon  one,"  without  effort  and 
without  thought  of  others,  less  fortunate  or  un- 
fortunate, he  is  liable  to  become  a  tyrant,  misan- 
thrope, or  nonentity. 

When  all  is  unfavorable,  bitter,  and  unrelenting, 
"and  man  is  made  to  mourn,"  the  individual  is 
likely  to  become  either  a  suicide  or  a  lunatic.  When 
fortune  smiles,  then  frowns ;  when  gains  and  losses 
10 


146  THE  LAST  MAN 

alternate;  when  pain  and  happiness  contend  for 
possession  of  the  human  soul,  man  seems  to  de- 
velop, grow  strong,  and  confident  in  his  power  and 
prowess. 

In  this  season  of  prosperity  there  had  come  to 
the  house  of  Boyd  a  bright-eyed  baby  boy,  the 
image  of  its  father,  and  the  cup  of  maternal  joy 
and  paternal  pride  ran  over. 

The  house  of  Boyd  now  had  an  heir.  The 
young  mother  lost  none  of  her  sweetness  in  the 
duties  of  her  new  function,  and  the  father  donned 
his  new  dignity  so  easily  that  he  gained  additional 
respect  and  consideration  from  the  whole  com- 
munity. And  when  the  little  son  had  begun  to 
talk,  and  walk,  and  play,  another  cherub  in  the 
form  of  a  little  girl  came  to  enlarge  the  charmed 
circle,  and  again  there  was  unbounded  felicity  in 
the  house  and  in  all  hearts.  Aunt  Milgrove  had 
come,  some  weeks  before  the  advent  of  the  little 
girl,  to  pay  a  long-promised  and  long-expected 
visit  to  the  Boyd  family,  and  her  presence,  dignified 
and  cheery  as  ever,  added  richly  to  the  gladness  of 
the  occasion. 

All  the  wealth  of  her  highly  endowed  nature 
seemed  to  center  about  and  expend  itself  upon  the 
family,  especially  the  little  ones.  The  little  girl, 
the  image  of  its  mother,  became  Mrs.  Milgrove's 
idol  and  was  worshiped.  The  aunt's  financial  condi- 
tion was  now  easy,  as  she  had  sold  one  of  her  Vir- 
ginia farms  at  a  good  price,  and  the  other  was  still 
under  lease  at  a  good  rental.     Near  the  close  of 


THE  FIERY  FURNACE  147 

her  stay  she  called  Boyd  aside  one  day  and  re- 
vealed to  him  her  intention  of  making  a  will  and 
of  naming  him  as  the  executor.  He  urged  reasons 
why  he  should  not  serve,  but  she  overcame  his 
objections,  and  insisted  so  earnestly  that  he  at 
length  consented.  "Upon  my  arrival  at  home," 
said  she,  "I  shall  make  my  will,  have  it  witnessed, 
sealed  up,  and  deposited  in  some  one  of  the  city  or 
county  ofhces,  where  you  can  get  it  and  proceed  to 
your  duties  as  executor." 

"Why  this  hurry,  Aunt?"  asked  he.  "You  may 
outlive  me — then  what  would  happen?" 

"I  should  appoint  another  executor,"  said  she. 
"But  I  have  had  a  presentiment  that  I  am  not  to 
live  long.  Not  that  I  am  sick,  or  suffering  from  any 
disease ;  on  the  contrary,  I  have  been  enjoying  re- 
markably good  health  for  some  years  past.  But 
there  comes  to  me  a  feeling,  as  strong  as  convic- 
tion, that  the  end  is  not  very  far  off,  and  so  I  am 
decided  to  make  all  needful  preparations."  Thus 
the  matter  was  agreed  upon,  just  before  she  re- 
turned to  Richmond. 

Now  came,  too,  the  crucial  test  of  manhood  and 
womanhood  for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boyd.  Forerun- 
ners of  ill  fortune  for  the  company  began  to  appear. 
New  fields  for  the  production  of  salt  were  opened 
and  operated.  The  supply  became  greater  than 
the  demand.  The  market  was  glutted  and  prices 
declined.  Competition  was  fierce,  and  the  com- 
pany was  driven  to  sell  at  yet  lower  figures.  Un- 
less larger  sales  could  be  made,  they  must  eventu- 


148  THE  LAST  MAN 

ally  suspend  operations,  or  sell  out  at  a  great  sac- 
rifice. At  a  meeting  of  the  officers  and  principal 
stockholders  it  was  decided  to  send  active  can- 
vassers to  certain  large  cities  to  work  up  new  busi- 
ness and  strengthen  the  old,  and  Boyd  was  ap- 
pointed as  one  of  the  agents  to  accomplish  this. 
In  obedience  to  the  mandate  he  repaired  to  his  sta- 
tion, St.  Louis.  Months  passed  and  he  had  gained 
substantial  advantages  for  the  company,  when  sud- 
denly there  came  a  telegram  to  come  home,  as 
there  was  serious  sickness  in  his  family.  Within 
thirty  hours  he  crossed  the  threshold  of  his  home. 
His  son  was  in  the  clutches  of  scarlet  fever,  which 
had  reached  the  second  stage,  when  a  hope  of 
recovery  is  all  that  remains.  Vain  hope !  The 
malady  completed  its  fatal  errand,  and  "the  pretty, 
darling  boy  was  slain."  Sadly,  O,  how  sadly,  the 
stricken  parents  laid  him  away !  But  the  end~^was 
not  yet.  Within  the  next  two  days  the  infant 
daughter  was  attacked  by  the  disease  and  within  a 
week  the  little  innocent  darling  was  dead !  The 
twice-smitten  parents  were  well-nigh  bereft  of  rea- 
son. Sad  days  and  long,  weary,  dismal  nights  of 
sorrow  and  weeping  ensued.  In  no  language 
known  to  earth  can  the  utter  loneliness,  the  painful 
vacuum,  the  aching  void,  the  lacerated  heart- 
strings of  those  parents  be  depicted.  Useless  were 
the  words  of  friends ;  vain  were  their  kind  offices ; 
and  sights  and  sounds,  formerly  grateful  and  en- 
joyable, only  served  to  grate  harshly  upon  the  ears 
and  feelings  of  the  bereft,  childless  parents. 


THE  FIERY  FURNACE  149 

Misfortunes  rarely  come  singly.  Sometimes 
they  come  in  troops,  in  relays.  Ere  the  poignancy 
of  the  parents'  grief  for  the  loss  of  their  darlings 
had  ceased,  the  pecuniary  weakness  of  the  company 
became  apparent  through  its  failure  to  meet  obli- 
gations to  banks  and  employees.  The  banks  com- 
bined against  and  sued  it;  judgments  with  costs 
were  decreed,  and,  faiUng  to  comply  with  the  terms, 
the  entire  property  was  levied  upon,  offered  for 
sale,  and  bought  by  the  banks  themselves  at  fig- 
ures so  low  that,  when  judgments  and  costs  were 
satisfied  and  wages  of  employees  were  paid,  there 
was  left  for  the  company  but  a  moiety  of  the  capi- 
tal originally  invested.  The  company  was  dis- 
solved, and  Colonel  Boyd  had  suffered  a  loss  of 
several  thousand  dollars  and  years  of  unrequited 
labor. 

Such  a  result  is  nothing  unusual.  Along  the 
shores  of  the  great  deep  of  business  are  strewn  the 
wrecks  of  fortunes  whose  ample  millions  could 
have  purchased  the  wealth  of  a  world.  Lives, 
health  and  happiness  have  been  sacrificed  on 
the  shores  and  shoals  of  the  same  treacherous  sea. 
As  it  has  been,  so  will  it  continue  to  be.  There  is 
no  compass  nor  polar  star  to  point  out  with  uner- 
ring instinct  the  cardinal  points,  and  no  deep  sea 
lead  that  can  be  relied  on  to  indicate  the  rocks  and 
quicksands  that  underlie  the  business  sea. 

Discouraged  by  losses  and  sorrows,  there  was 
yet  left  to  them  one  priceless  boon  which  neither 
misfortune  nor   death   could   wrest   from   them — 


150  THE  LAST  MAN 

their  love  and  devotion  to  each  other.  Love  as 
fresh  and  new  as  when  they  stood  at  the  altar,  and 
devotion  even  more  complete  than  during-  the 
honeymoon  were  theirs.  Especially  was  this  true 
of  Mrs.  Boyd.  So  long  as  business  had  prospered 
and  children  had  claimed  her  care,  she  had  not  felt 
the  necessity  of  exerting  herself  to  promote  her 
husband's  happiness,  as  his  radiant  face,  cheery 
voice  and  quick,  buoyant  step  indicated  that  he  was 
supremely  happy.  But  now  she  saw  and  felt,  with 
quick  womanly  intuition,  that  he  was  under  a  cloud 
whose  baneful  effects  might  seriously  impair,  if  not 
destroy,  those  masterful  qualities  of  mind  and  soul 
by  the  employment  and  exercise  of  which  he  had 
attained  an  enviable  rank  among  men.  Putting 
aside  her  own  grief,  she  gave  herself  to  the  new 
and  angelic  task  of  delivering  him  from  the  prison 
of  gloomy  thought  and  foreboding,  and  leading 
him  again  into  a  state  of  freedom  and  the  enjoy- 
ment of  subjects  and  objects  to  which  he  as  well 
as  herself  had  hitherto  been  strangers. 

There  was  another  source  of  happiness  which 
came  to  these  chastened  souls,  and  that  was  the 
acquisition  of  genuine  heart  religion.  Not  that 
kind  of  religion  which  consists  solely  of  adherence 
to  certain  ecclesiastical  dogmas  that  the  believer 
does  not  understand,  or,  understanding,  does  not 
believe,  though  he  may  subscribe  to  them  as  a  for- 
mula. 

Their  faith  accepted  the  plain,  unperverted  state- 
ments of  the  Bible,  which  they  regarded  as  the 


THE  FIERY  FURNACE  151 

direct,  complete,  and  only  revelation  of  God  to 
man.  Such  faith  inevitably  led  them  to  a  personal 
appropriation  of  all  the  conditions  and  provisions 
for  man's  restoration  to  his  original  status  with  the 
Divine  One,  and  preparation  to  meet  Him  in  peace 
and  safety  "when  life's  fitful  fever  is  over." 

To  distinguish  themselves  from  the  careless,  the 
wicked,  the  profligate,  they  allied  themselves  with, 
and  became  parts  of,  a  Christian  church.  Thence- 
forth, in  words  and  deeds  of  loyalty  to  the  Master, 
and  love  and  charity  for  humanity,  they  tasted  the 
ineffable  sweets  of  the  new  life  which  tends,  not 
only  to  elevate  one  above  "the  ills  that  flesh  is 
heir  to,"  but  to  take  hold  of  the  certainties,  as  well 
as  the  mysteries,  of  the  eternal  future. 

At  the  same  time,  little  by  little,  through  atten- 
tions so  delicate  and  unobtrusive  that  he  did  not 
perceive  the  motive,  Alena  assisted  her  husband  to 
float  safely  on  the  crest  of  waves  which  otherwise 
would  have  engulfed  him. 

Under  such  conditions  both  grew,  intellectually 
and  spiritually,  as  they  never  would  have  grown 
had  continuous  prosperity  and  ultimate  wealth 
been  their  sole  aim  and  possession.  It  is  only 
when  the  flower  is  crushed  that  it  yields  its  essen- 
tial perfume.  It  is  only  through  the  ministry  of 
suffering  that  the  human  soul  is  purified. 

Woolsey  never  would  have  attained  a  moral 
plane  high  enough  to  utter  his  inimitable  address 
to  Cromwell,  had  he  not  felt  "the  stings  and  arrows 
of  outrageous  fortune,"  and  realized  that  "had  he 


152  THE  LAST  MAN 

served  God  with  half  the  zeal  with  which  he  had 
served  his  king,  he  would  not  have  been  left  deso- 
late in  his  old  age." 

This  change  in  Colonel  Boyd,  from  sadness  and 
discouragement,  required  time  and  the  employ- 
ment of  many  devices  by  Mrs.  Boyd  to  turn  the 
current  of  his  thoughts  and  emotions  into  a  safe, 
healthful  channel.  One  of  these  incidents  merits 
a  complete  description. 


XIV. 
"THE  HAWK'S  NEST." 

The  only  stream  of  considerable  size  that  flows 
northward  through  the  Blue  Ridge  and  Allegheny 
Mountains  is  New  River.  Rising  in  the  moun- 
tainous portion  of  North  Carolina,  and  flowing 
through  the  upper  part  of  the  celebrated  Valley  of 
Virginia,  it  finally  forms  a  junction  with  the 
Gauley  River  at  the  western  base  of  the  Allegheny 
range,  becoming  the  Great  Kanawha,  which  dis- 
charges its  waters  into  the  Ohio  River  at  Point 
Pleasant,  West  Virginia. 

The  location,  bed  and  trend  of  New  River  are 
the  result  of  a  mighty  prehistoric  upheaval  and 
fracture  of  the  Blue  Ridge  and  Allegheny  ranges 
at  nearly  a  right  angle  with  their  direction.  A 
deep,  ragged,  tortuous  cafion  or  ravine  was  thus 
formed,  through  which  many  small  mountain 
streams  in  North  Carolina  found  a  new  outlet, 
instead  of  flowing  directly  southeastward  to  the 
Atlantic  Ocean,  as  they  had  doubtless  done 
through  previous  ages.  To  this  stream  the  In- 
dians had  given  a  name  signifying  "the  river  of 
the  broken-backed  mountain."  Some  French  ex- 
plorer, who  had  discovered  it  before  the  English 
came,  gave  it  the  name  "Noie"  River,  which,  later, 
was  anglicized  into  its  present  form. 


154  THE  LAST  MAN 

If  some  competent  master  of  Indian  lore  and 
legends  would  collect,  translate  and  publish  a 
treatise  of  Indian  names  of  lakes,  streams  and 
mountains,  together  with  the  facts,  resemblances 
and  legends  which  gave  rise  to  the  names,  it  would 
be  a  valuable  contribution  to  geography  and  eth- 
nology. For  all  these  names  are  self-significant 
words,  within  which  are  often  concealed  valuable 
history  and  interesting  legends.  As  a  race,  the 
Indian  will  soon  cease  to  be,  and  all  that  remains 
to  tell  that  he  ever  existed  will  be  books,  and  these 
names  of  permanent  physical  objects. 

Of  several  travels  and  excursions  planned  by 
Mrs.  Boyd,  one  was  a  visit  to  the  "Hawk's  Nest," 
a  mighty  overhanging  cliff  on  New  River,  some 
thirty  miles  above  its  junction  with  the  Gauley. 

Leaving  home,  they  drove  leisurely  up  the 
Kanawha  Valley,  passed  and  contemplated  the 
great  falls,  just  below  the  junction  of  the  two 
streams,  crossed  the  Gauley  bridge,  and  began 
ascending  the  mountains.  Owing  to  their  steep- 
ness, two  days  were  necessary  to  complete  the 
journey,  when  they  reached  the  little  inn  near  the 
ledge.  Next  morning  they  visited  the  cliff,  lay 
down  and  crawled  to  the  brink,  and  peered  over 
and  down,  nine  hundred  feet,  into  the  river  at  the 
bottom,  which,  at  such  a  distance,  seemed  no  wider 
than  an  average  brook.  Invited  to  throw  a  stone 
across  the  stream,  Boyd  tried  again  and  again  to 
perform  the  feat,  but  in  vain,  the  missiles  seeming 
to  approach  the  cliff  in  their  descent,  and  striking 


'THE  HAWK'S  NEST"  155 

the  rocks  and  pebbles  far  on  the  hither  side  of  the 
water. 

Mrs.  Boyd  peered  over  and  looked  down  the 
face  of  the  cliff  for  a  hawk's  nest,  and  calling  the 
hotel  man  and  asking  where  it  was,  he  pointed  to 
a  little  projection  on  the  face  of  the  cliff,  some  five 
hundred  feet  below,  and  said  that  was  the  spot 
where  the  nest  had  been. 

"And  is  it  not  there  now  ?"  asked  she. 

"No,  I  have  never  seen  a  hawk,  or  a  nest 
either,"  he  replied. 

"Then  why  is  it  called  the  'Hawk's  Nest?' "  per- 
sisted she. 

"The  story  is  a  long  one,  but  if  you  want  to  hear 
it  we  will  come  over  here  after  supper  this  evening 
and  I  will  tell  it  as  I  have  heard  it." 

At  the  hour  agreed  upon  they  carried  chairs 
over  to  the  cliff,  and,  when  seated,  the  hotel  keeper 
said : 

"Before  I  tell  the  story,  I  want  to  remind  you 
that  the  cliff  is  nine  hundred  feet  high,  and  that  the 
top  projects  at  least  fifty  feet  beyond  the  base. 
Notice  the  turbulent  condition  of  the  water,  caused 
by  the  steep  incline  of  the  bed  of  the  river  and  the 
surging  of  the  water  between  and  around  the  rocks, 
varying  from  the  size  of  a  haycock  to  a  small  hill. 
That  the  river  can  ever  be  rendered  navigable  for 
water  craft  is  simply  ridiculous.  And  yet  a  stand- 
ing source  of  fun  and  revenue  for  us  up  here  is  that 
Congress  makes  an  annual  appropriation  of  thou- 
sands of  dollars  'to  impove  the  navigation  of  New 


156  THE  LAST  MAN 

River,'  The  money  comes  regularly,  and  we 
mountain  people  earn  and  get  it  by  taking  powder, 
fuse,  drills  and  crowbars  and  blowing  to  pieces 
some  of  these  big  boulders  down  there !  Ha,  ha, 
ha! 

"Now  I  will  give  you  the 

"  'legend  of  the  hawk's  nest.' 

"Thousands  of  moons  ago  there  lived  and 
hunted  in  the  country  on  this  side  of  the  river  a 
powerful  tribe  of  Indians,  whose  chief,  Towanda, 
had  a  beautiful  daughter,  Agalla,  'she  of  the  pout- 
ing lips.'  Her  eyes,  black  and  sparkling,  her  hair 
reaching  to  the  ground,  and  her  limbs  lithe  and 
active  as  a  roe,  she  attracted  may  suitors. 

"On  yonder  side  of  the  river  lived,  hunted  and 
fished  another  tribe,  whose  chief  had  a  son,  Illo- 
gah,  'the  swift  of  foot,'  who  was  trained  in  all  In- 
dian craft,  cunning  and  lore,  and  who,  when  his 
father  should  die  and  go  to  the  land  of  the  Great 
Spirit,  would  become  chief  of  the  tribe.  The  two 
chiefs,  owing  to  the  existence  of  frequent  disputes, 
feuds,  lights  and  forays  between  the  members  of 
their  tribes,  had  held  many  pow-wows  looking  to  a 
union  of  the  tribes,  which  would  settle  all  these 
troubles  and  render  the  new  tribe  the  most  power- 
ful in  all  this  mountain  region.  All  plans  for  a 
union  had  failed,  when  it  suddenly  occurred  to 
both  chiefs  that  the  marriage  of  the  daughter  of 
one  to  the  son  of  the  other  would  bring  about 


"THE  HAWK'S  NEST"  157 

the  desired  union.  In  token  of  their  approval  of 
the  plan,  they  each  pledged  the  other  his  influence 
and  assistance  to  bring  about  the  marriage,  and 
they  shook  hands  and  smoked  the  pipe. 

"From  that  day  Illogah  became  a  suitor  for  the 
heart  and  hand  of  Agalla.  But  she,  like  many 
other  maidens  before  and  since,  refused  the  ad- 
vances and  presents  of  Illogah,  because  she  loved  a 
young  warrior  of  her  own  tribe,  was  plighted  to 
him,  and  would  marry  him  as  soon  as  she  could 
gain  her  father's  consent. 

"When  her  father,  intent  upon  the  marriage  to 
Illogah,  would  try  to  show  her  the  advantages  of 
such  an  alliance,  and  that  she  would  become  queen 
of  the  united  tribes,  her  heart  would  sink,  her 
eyes  would  droop,  her  tongue  would  refuse  to 
speak,  and  her  whole  frame  would  tremble.  The 
father  was  annoyed  at  her  behavior,  non-committal 
as  it  was.  She  who  never  before  had  failed  to  re- 
spond with  joyous  alacrity  to  his  requests,  and 
even  his  unspoken  wishes,  now  stood  silent,  still 
and  unmoved.  Either  she  loved  some  other  one,  or 
she  had  an  uncontrollable  distaste  for  Illogah. 
Which  was  it?  He  set  spies — old  squaws — to 
watch  her  goings  and  comings,  but  no  sign,  word 
or  movement  betrayed  that  she  loved,  or  who  the 
lover  was,  if  one  existed.  The  father,  concluding 
that  her  mood  was  alone  due  to  an  aversion  for 
Illogah,  determined  that  such  a  feminine  fancy  and 
weakness,  as  he  regarded  it,  should  not  longer  pre- 
vent  the    consummation   of  his   design.     At   the 


158  THE  LAST  MAN 

same  time,  despite  the  watchfulness  of  her  father 
and  the  spies,  the  lovers  would  meet,  at  dead  of 
night,  when  all  others  slept,  and  exchange  words 
and  tokens  of  regard,  the  skin  of  a  fur-bearing  ani- 
mal from  him,  or  a  pair  of  beaded  moccasins  from 
her.  lUogah  now  pressed  his  suit  with  greater 
vigor,  but  she  flung  his  presents  at  his  feet  and 
turned  from  him  in  disgust  and  anger.  Her  father, 
from  being  kind  and  reasonable,  now  became  harsh 
and  dictatorial,  and  swore  that  she  should  marry 
Illogah,  and  fixed  the  day  for  the  marriage.  He 
invited  the  young  man's  father,  and  the  principal 
braves,  and  his  own  braves  to  be  present.  That 
night  Agalla  saw  her  lover,  told  him  the  sad 
tidings,  and  vowed  never  to  wed  Illogah.  She 
would  either  kill  him  or  kill  herself.  She  would 
try  first  to  kill  him.  Next  evening  the  unwelcome 
suitor  came,  as  usual,  and  reminded  her  of  their 
approaching  marriage,  and  besought  her  to  love 
him.  She  hesitated,  smiled,  looked  upon  him  as 
never  before,  and  said :  'Illogah,  I  have  never 
thought  I  could  love  you,  but  if  you  will  do  what 
I  ask,  I  will  try  to  love  you.'  He  sprang  forward 
and  begged  her  to  name  it.  There  is  a  hawk's 
nest  in  the  face  of  the  cliff  yonder,'  said  she,  'about 
half  way  from  top  to  bottom,  and  young  hawks, 
almost  ready  to  fly,  are  in  the  nest.  I  would  hke 
to  have  them  for  their  feathers  and  claws.'  'But 
how  can  I  get  them,'  he  asked.  'Make  a  ladder  of 
grape  vines  long  enough  to  reach  from  the  top  of 
the  cliff  to  the  nest  below,'  said  she ;  'come,  some 


"THE  HAWK'S  NEST"  159 

dark  night,  when  the  camp  and  the  hawks  are  still, 
fasten  the  ladder  at  the  summit  of  the  cliff,  drop 
it  over  the  ledge,  go  down  the  ladder,  get  the 
birds,  climb  up  the  ladder,  and  I  will  be  at  the  top 
to  receive  them.' 

"To  this  adventurous  but  daring  plan  Illogah 
assented  gladl}^,  enthusiastically.  He  would  do 
this  or  die  in  the  attempt. 

"About  a  week  later  he  stole  quietly  into  the 
camp  at  night,  carrying  a  great  load  of  vines,  made 
into  a  ladder.  She  was  there,  and  together  they 
hid  the  structure  in  a  clump  of  thorn  bushes,  to 
wait  for  a  darker  night.  It  came  soon,  and  he 
and  the  maiden  strolled  to  a  point  near  the  con- 
cealed ladder,  no  one  paying  attention  to  them,  as 
he  had  been  there  so  often.  They  waited  an  hour, 
two  hours,  till  all  was  quiet,  except  an  owl  that 
shouted  at  intervals  from  a  tree  near  by,  'Who ! 
who  !  to  who  who  !' 

"Looking  about  cautiously,  they  felt  sure  that 
no  one  saw  them.  Then  he  drew  from  its  hiding 
place  the  ladder,  dragged  it  to  a  point  on  the  cliff 
which  he  had  previously  marked  in  daytime, 
fastened  the  two  strong  strands  to  saplings  two 
or  three  feet  apart,  and  dropped  the  ladder  over 
the  ledge.  Then  tying  a  blanket  about  his  shoul- 
ders, he  boldly  began  his  descent.  Agalla,  and 
another,  lay  listening  intently.  At  last  they  hear 
the  screaming  of  the  birds  below,  old  as  well  as 
young.  The  supreme  moment  has  come.  The 
gleam  of  two  tomahawks,  sharp  and  keen,  flashes 


160  THE  LAST  MAN 

through  the  darkness;  the  weapons  fall  with  ter- 
rible force,  and  their  edges  sever  in  twain  the 
strands  of  the  ladder,  which  disappears  over  the 
clifif  with  lightning-like  velocity.  The  next  mo- 
ment there  comes  upward  a  prolonged,  agonizing 
shriek,  then  the  noise  of  a  dull  crash,  and  all  is 
silent,  save  the  voice  of  the  owl  that  again  shouts, 
'Who  !  who !  to  who  who  !'  The  maiden  and  her 
lover  spring  to  their  feet,  flee  lightly  and  swiftly  as 
deer  pursued,  and  before  morning  have  placed  be- 
tween them  and  their  tribe  a  full  day's  journey. 

"When  morning  came  the  camps  of  both  tribes 
were  in  terrible  commotion.  The  young  man, 
Illogah,  had  not  returned  to  his  chieftain  father 
from  his  last  night's  visit  to  Agalla,  across  the 
river.  Where  was  he?  Had  anything  befallen 
him?  The  maiden  Agalla  was  missing.  Where 
was  she?  One  of  the  warriors  of  her  tribe  was 
missing.  Where  was  he?  A  rapid,  vigorous 
search  was  made  in  each  camp.  No  ponies  nor 
blankets  had  disappeared.  Only  the  apparel  of 
the  maiden,  and  the  tomahawk,  bow  and  arrows 
and  blanket  of  the  missing  warrior  had  vanished. 

"A  deputation  from  the  other  tribe  came  over 
in  search  of  Illogah.  No  one  had  seen  him  since  the 
previous  evening,  in  company  with  Agalla.  No 
trace  of  him  could  be  found.  A  wider  and  more 
thorough  search  was  ordered.  On  the  second 
day  a  party  of  searchers  came  to  the  spot  at  the 
bottom  of  the  cliff  where  lay  the  crushed,  mangled 
body   of   Illogah,    amid   a   mass   of   grape   vines. 


"THE  HAWK'S  NEST"  161 

around  his  neck  and  shoulders  was  a  blanket,  and 
within  its  folds  were  several  young  dead  hawks, 
and  above,  circling  about,  disconsolate  and  scream- 
ing, were  the  parent  birds. 

"Evidently  the  young  brave  had  constructed  the 
ladder,  fastened  it  at  the  top,  climbed  down  it  and 
captured  the  birds,  when  the  ladder  broke  and  he 
fell  and  was  killed.  How  happened  all  this,  and 
why  ?  Ah,  wait !  One  of  the  searchers  examines 
the  ends  of  the  ladder.  The  vines  had  not  broken, 
but  had  been  cut  by  a  sharp  instrument.  Light 
began  to  dawn.  Who  cut  off  the  vines  ?  Tliey 
reported  the  result  of  their  search  to  their  chief. 
He  sent  runners  to  the  camp  of  Chief  Towanda  to 
inform  him  of  the  event,  and  urge  him  to  hunt  for 
and  find  the  murderer  of  his  son, 

"Chief  Towanda  ordered  a  most  exhaustive 
search  to  be  made  for  the  missing  warrior  and  his 
daughter,  but  nevermore  did  he  learn  whither  they 
had  gone,  or  what  became  of  them. 

"Undoubtedy  the  missing  warrior  had  cut  the 
grapevine  ladder  and  he  and  Agalla  had  run  away. 
Towanda  reported  the  facts  to  the  other  chief,  the 
bereaved  father,  but,  none  the  less,  he  accused 
Chief  Towanda  and  his  tribe  of  the  murder  of  his 
son.  Cruel,  unrelenting  war  between  the  two 
tribes  followed,  and,  after  twenty  years,  the  chiefs 
and  nearly  all  the  warriors  were  dead,  and  both 
tribes  became  extinct. 

"Agalla  and  her  lover  traveled  many  nights,  and 
hid  through  the  days,  following  along  the  eastern 
11 


162  THE  LAST  MAN 

base  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  in  a  southwesterly  course, 
hoping  at  length  to  reach  some  other  tribe,  far 
away,  where  they  would  be  safe  from  pursuit  and 
capture  by  parties  which  they  surmised  would  fol- 
low them. 

"After  forty  or  more  days  and  nights  of  travel, 
fear  and  fasting,  footsore  and  exhausted,  they 
reached  one  of  the  lodges  of  the  Cherokees,  a  pow- 
erful family  of  Indians  in  northern  Georgia  and 
Alabama.  They  were  admitted  as  members,  and 
their  children's  children  formed  part  of  that  sad 
procession  which,  a  generation  ago,  made  a  forced 
and  unwelcome  migration  to  what  is  now  known 
as  the  Indian  Territory.  Their  descendants  now 
form  an  integral  part  of  the  Cherokee  Nation." 

The  narrator  ceased. 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Colonel  Boyd,  "that  is  one  of 
the  most  thrilling  Indian  stories  I  ever  heard  or 
read.    Can  you  vouch  for  its  truthfulness?" 

"No,"  said  the  hotel  man,  "I  have  heard  it  often 
as  'The  Legend  of  the  Hawk's  Nest,'  and  have 
given  it  to  you  as  I  received  it." 

Said  Mrs.  Boyd: 

"It  is  very  interesting,  but  very  cruel,  though. 
What  do  you  regard  as  the  moral,  or  lesson,  of  the 
story  ?" 

"Can't  say  as  to  that,  madam,  but  mebbe  one 
lesson  is  this — that  a  designing  man  may,  now  and 
then,  trap  a  trusting  woman,  but  a  designing  wo- 
man can  always  trap  a  man." 

Though    a    hearty    laugh    followed    this    sally. 


"THE  HAWK'S  NEST"  163 

the  little  woman  was  equal  to  the  occasion,  and 
retorted : 

"There  are  hosts  of  men  trying  to  entrap  women, 
to  one  woman  who  tries  to  entrap  a  man.  Men 
don't  need  to  be  entrapped.  They  just  come  and 
are  caught,  without  trap,  bait  or  decoy." 

Another  shout  of  laughter  greeted  this  womanly 
defense,  and  with  it  the  sitting  ended. 

As  they  rose  to  return  to  the  hotel,  in  the  dusk 
of  the  evening,  an  owl,  perched  on  a  lofty  tree 
close  at  hand,  shouted,  "Who !  who !  to  who ! 
who !" 


XV. 

LIGHT  AHEAD. 

Another  influence  that  aided  Boyd  in  returning 
to  a  primal,  rational  condition  was  derived  from 
active  participation  in  the  work  of  the  Grand 
Army  of  the  Republic.  In  the  years  of  his  pros- 
perity he  had  joined  that  body,  and  had  filled,  in 
succession,  all  the  higher  official  positions  in  his 
post.  The  discharge  of  his  duties,  though  faithful 
and  according  to  the  ritual,  was  perfunctory  rather 
than  heartfelt.  But  now,  since  he  had  drunk  to 
the  dregs  the  cup  of  bitterness  and  loss,  he  saw  and 
felt  the  force  of  the  cardinal  principles,  "Frater- 
nity, Loyalty,  and  Charity."  Especially  was  he 
moved  by  the  last,  "Charity."  "But  the  greatest 
of  these  is  Charity"  became  a  living,  active,  domi- 
nating force,  impelling  him  to  deeds  in  behalf  of 
needy  comrades  and  the  widows  and  orphans  of 
those  who  had  fallen.  Not  a  day  passed  that  he 
did  not  seek  opportunities  to  fulfill  this  obligation, 
and  his  name  and  fame  became  known  throughout 
the  entire  State.  "Virtue  is  often  its  own  reward," 
but  in  this  case  it  brought  other  rewards. 

If  it  be  true  that 

"There  is  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men, 
Which,  taken  at  the  flood,  leads  on  to  fortune," 


LIGHT  AHEAD  165 

it  is  quite  as  true  that  there  are  times  in  the  lives 
of  some  men  when  they  seem  to  come  to  the  close 
of  their  careers.  As  a  traveler  through  a  dense 
forest  follows  the  road,  broad,  plain  and  well 
beaten  at  first,  until,  little  by  Httle,  it  becomes  nar- 
row, dim  and  untraveled,  and  at  last  fades  out 
altogether,  and  he  is  lost,  and  without  compass, 
chart  or  guiding  star,  so  it  had  been  with  Colonel 
Boyd.  What  to  do,  in  what  to  embark,  how  to 
earn  a  livelihood,  became  the  foremost  topics  of 
his  thoughts  and  conversations  with  his  wife.  He 
had  reached  the  end  of  the  road  and  was  lost. 

At  this  juncture  a  committee  of  delegates  to  a 
county  convention  to  nominate  candidates  for  vari- 
ous offices  asked  to  put  Boyd's  name  in  nomina- 
tion for  representative  to  the  Legislature.  He  de- 
clined at  first,  but,  won  over  by  their  importuni- 
ties, he  consented,  was  nominated  on  the  first  bal- 
lot, and  elected  by  a  large  majority.  When  he 
came  home  and  told  Mrs.  Boyd,  she  was  too  full 
to  speak,  but  flung  herself  upon  him  and  wept 
tears  of  gratitude  to  God  and  man.  "I  always 
knew,"  said  she,  when  she  could  speak,  "that  you 
were  looked  up  to  by  men,  and  this  is  the  proof  of 
it,  and  I  think  it  is  the  beginning  of  a  grand  ca- 
reer." In  such  manner  loving  wives  think  and 
speak  of  their  husbands,  going  even  farther  than 
this  at  times.  If  the  talents  and  abilities  of  hus- 
bands are  not  appreciated  and  rewarded,  wives  are 
prone  to  think  and  say  that  it  is  owing  to  envy  or 
inexcusable  stupidity. 


166  THE  LAST  MAN 

At  the  appointed  date  the  Legislature  met,  and 
its  session  progressed  and  closed  without  any  note- 
worthy occurrence.  It  is  needless  to  say  that 
Colonel  Boyd  did  his  whole  duty  to  the  State,  to 
his  constituents,  and  to  himself,  in  the  order 
named.  Thus  did  the  great  heroes  of  antiquity, 
and  of  modern  times,  and  thus  did  the  fathers  of 
the  Republic.  But  recently  a  new  era  of  thought, 
motive  and  action  has  begun.  Now  the  rank  and 
order  of  motives  and  acts  of  many — too  many — 
Representatives,  and  even  Senators,  of  the  United 
States  is,  first,  self;  second,  their  constituencies; 
and  third  and  last,  the  country  and  its  interests. 
Herein  consists  the  distinction  between  a  states- 
man and  a  politician : 

A  statesman  is,  first  of  all,  a  patriot ;  next,  he  is 
possessed  of  natural  and  acquired  abilities  above 
the  average  of  his  fellow-men ;  lastly,  he  has  given 
much  time  and  profound  thought  to  the  underly- 
ing principles  of  human  governments  in  general, 
and  of  his  own  government  in  particular,  including 
all  its  policies  in  behalf  of  the  people  and  toward 
foreign  nations ;  and,  in  all,  he  "would  rather  be 
right  than  be  President."  He  joins  and  co-oper- 
ates with  a  political  party  because  it  professes  and 
adheres  to  certain  principles  which  he  regards  as 
essential  to  the  existence  and  perpetuity  of  the 
government  and  the  interests  and  vested  rights  of 
the  people. 

A  politician  is  a  man  of  average,  or  less  than 
average,   natural    and    acquired   abilities,    but    en- 


IJGHT  AHEAD  167 

dowed  with  a  certain  kind  of  smartness  which  leads 
him  to  espouse  the  alleged  beliefs  of  one  or  another 
political  party,  for  the  purpose  of  securing  office, 
or  emoluments  through  the  votes  or  influence  of 
the  party.  His  principal  talent  is  that  of  the  "hand- 
shaker," the  "good  mixer,"  or  the  "spellbinder." 
If  he  secures  the  coveted  office,  whether  by  fair  or 
foul  means,  he  hesitates  not  to  misrepresent,  de- 
ceive and  defraud  his  constituents  when  his  per- 
sonal ends  and  interests  run  counter  to  the  inter- 
ests of  the  people.  Almost  any  man  can  be  a  poli- 
tician ;  only  one  man  in  a  million  can  be  a  states- 
man. Heaven  creates  a  statesman ;  political  par- 
ties make  politicians. 

All  this,  and  more,  Boyd  soon  saw  and  felt.  To 
be  a  statesman  he  knew  he  was  lacking  in  several 
indispensable  requisites ;  to  become  a  mere  politi- 
cian, he  was  sincerely  indisposed.  So  that  when 
his  friends  wished  to  re-elect  him  he  firmly  and 
positively  declined,  showing  by  that  step  alone  that 
he  was  not  a  politician. 

Directing  his  attention  once  more  to  his  finan- 
cial condition,  and  studying  several  enterprises 
which  invited  capital,  his  friend  Boone  and  he  de- 
cided to  risk  some  money  and  labor  in  prospecting 
for  petroleum.  Securing  leases  on  two  small  farms 
in  the  oil  territory,  they  bought  the  outfits  and 
began  "putting  down"  two  wells,  one  on  each 
farm.  Thus,  if  one  should  prove  a  success  and  the 
other  a  failure,  they  would  be  the  gainers.  After 
weeks  of  toil  and  expense,  suddenly  the  ponderous 


168  THE  LAST  MAN 

drill  in  one  of  the  wells  dropped  several  feet,  a 
mighty  volume  of  gas  rushed  up  through  the  ori- 
fice, carrying  with  it  the  drill  and  all  its  attach- 
ments, and,  after  several  hours,  there  flowed  forth 
a  stream  of  petroleum  mingled  with  water,  spout- 
ing many  feet  above  the  top  of  the  well. 

Men  engaged  on  the  other  wells  in  the  vicinity 
came  to  the  assistance  of  Boyd  and  Boone's  men, 
and  with  picks,  shovels  and  hands  a  strong  dam 
of  wood,  stone  and  earth  was  constructed  across 
the  ravine  below  the  well.  Within  the  next  two 
days  the  owners  had  a  fortune,  and  fierce  excite- 
ment pervaded  the  entire  section  of  country.  The 
well  continued  to  flow  at  a  rate  almost  equal  to 
its  initial  product,  and  money  flowed  into  the  cof- 
fers of  the  owners.  Stranger  still,  because  un- 
looked  for,  and  unexpected,  the  other  well  "came 
in,"  and,  though  not  a  "gusher,"  was  prolific 
enough  to  be  a  fortune  in  itself. 

The  tide  had  evidently  turned  in  Boyd's  favor. 
With  money  came  respect,  and  what  the  world  calls 
honor.  What  a  greedy  age  is  this.  Ages  of  hero- 
ism, of  conquest,  of  art  and  letters,  the  grandest 
the  world  has  ever  seen,  or  may  see,  have  come  and 
gone.  But  the  present  age,  especially  the  present 
century,  has  witnessed  the  most  gigantic  strides  in 
inventions  and  improvements  in  the  domestic  and 
the  useful  arts  and  sciences,  beyond  all  record  in 
past  centuries.  And  yet,  coupled  with  this,  and 
seemingly  a  part  of  it,  is  a  ravenous,  insatiable 
spirit  of  greed,  never  before  existing.     In  nearly 


LIGHT  AHEAD  169 

every  undertaking  the  paramount  question  is, 
"Will  it  pay?"  while  that  other  question,  "Is  it 
honest  and  legitimate?"  is  partially,  if  not  totally, 
ignored.  The  almost  universal  appetite  is  for 
money,  or  property,  which  is  the  key  to  social 
standing,  power,  influence,  and  undemocratic  hau- 
teur and  exclusiveness.  So  widespread  and  all- 
controlling  is  this  false  notion,  that  it  condones  the 
deeds  of  the  scoundrel,  the  mountebank,  and  the 
criminal ;  elevates  to  positions  of  honor  and  respon- 
sibility— where  brain,  culture  and  principle  alone 
are  essential  requisites — the  ignorant,  insolent  mil- 
lionaire; and,  not  halting  at  that,  even  seats  in  the 
high  places  of  the  temples  of  God  men  whose  char- 
acters are  besmirched  with  foul  deeds  and  esca- 
pades, and  their  reputations  notorious  and  mal- 
odorous. 

Money — its  possession — is  not  an  evil.  It  is 
"the  love  of  money,"  for  what  it  will  purchase,  that 
is  "the  root  of  all  evil."  A  man  is  not  the  worse 
for  being  the  owner  of  millions,  honestly  acquired 
or  inherited.  Controlled  by  right  motives,  he  is 
the  better  for  having  wealth.  To  develop  the  re- 
sources of  a  country;  to  organize  and  promote 
industries ;  to  cause  two  blades  of  grass  to  grow 
where  only  one  had  grown;  to  make  "the  wilder- 
ness blossom  as  the  rose,"  and,  by  such  measures 
and  means,  increase  the  sum  of  human  happiness — 
these  are  laudable  objects  to  which  a  wealthy  man 
may  devote  his  money  and  his  attention.  But  to 
make,  or  hoard  money,  for  itself,  is,  per  se,  an  act 


170  THE  LAST  MAN 

indefensible  from  any  standpoint,  whether  of  ethics, 
philanthrophy,  or  good  citizenship. 

Somewhat  of  these  views  began  to  occupy  and 
engross  Boyd's  attention.  The  quahties  of  the 
man  and  his  convictions  inspired  him  to  do  some- 
thing for  humanity.  He  knew  from  sad  experience 
what  was  the  pinch  of  poverty;  now  kind  heaven 
was  showering  upon  him  afifluence.  He  had  now 
in  possession  far  more  than  he  and  his  wife  would 
require,  however  long  they  might  live.  What 
should  he  do  with  the  residue,  and  with  future  accu- 
mulations? Half-formed  plans  on  the  subject  be- 
gan to  present  themselves.  But  first,  and  properly, 
too,  he  chose  to  buy  and  furnish  a  comfortable, 
perhaps  elegant  home.  Mrs.  Boyd  was  consulted 
in  this  matter,  and  she,  happy  woman,  recalling  the 
time  and  place  of  their  marriage,  favored  the  Capi- 
tal as  their  permanent  home,  with  which  choice  he 
coincided.  For  this  purpose  they  visited  Wash- 
ington, examined  several  properties,  and  selected 
and  bought  a  residence  surrounded  by  a  spacious 
lot,  upon  an  elevation  overlooking  the  whole  city. 
Southward  could  be  seen  miles  of  the  Potomac,  the 
hills  of  Virginia,  from  Great  Falls  to  Mount  Ver- 
non, the  historic  home  of  the  Lees  at  Arlington, 
the  spires  of  Alexandria,  the  eastern  branch  of  the 
Potomac,  Anacostia,  Providence  Hospital,  and 
Saint  Elizabeth  beyond ;  and  to  the  northeast,  the 
Soldiers'  Home,  the  Catholic  University,  and  the 
beautiful  suburb  of  Brookland.  And  in  the  center 
of    this    extensive    panorama    rose    that    square, 


LIGHT  AHEAD  171 

white,  silent  shaft,  Washington's  Monument.  It 
is  an  inspiring  picture ;  not  wild,  it  is  true,  nor 
tame,  it  is  equally  true,  but  rich,  rare,  and  gratify- 
ing to  the  senses  and  to  the  most  exalted  aesthetic 
taste.  Home  at  last !  "Home,  sweet,  sweet 
home !"  When  June  came  with  its  roses  and  bird 
songs  they  entered  this  earthly  paradise,  wherein 
for  years,  hospitality,  ease,  elegance,  and,  above  all 
these,  charity,  in  its  broadest,  sweetest  sense,  were 
illustrated  and  personified. 

Now  that  the  domestic  problem  was  solved,  came 
up  that  other  subject — what  to  do  for  the  age  and 
humanity.  In  the  discharge  of  his  duties  as  an 
officer  in  the  Grand  Army,  Colonel  Boyd  had  often 
seen,  among  the  ex-soldiers,  and  widows,  and 
orphans,  suffering,  want,  disease,  and  penury. 

It  came  to  him  slowly,  but  not  the  less  convinc- 
ingly, that  something  more,  something  new,  per- 
haps, should  be  done  to  enable  thousands  of  these 
partly  infirm  and  almost  penniless  men  to  maintain 
themselves.  Many  of  them  were  young  farmers, 
mechanics  and  laborers  when  the  country's  call 
summoned  them  to  her  defense.  Disease,  wounds, 
loss  of  limbs,  and  impairment  of  vital  powers  had 
forever  disqualified  them  for  successful  competi- 
tion in  the  struggle  of  life  and  participation  in  the 
more  lucrative  pursuits.  True,  there  were  "Sol- 
diers' Homes,"  both  State  and  National,  but  to  be 
an  occupant  and  beneficiary  of  these  or  any  other 
eleemosynary  institution  is  almost  certain  death  to 
all  honorable   ambition.     "Abandon   hope   all   ye 


172  THE  LAST  MAN 

who  enter  here"  might  well  be  inscribed  over  the 
portals  of  all  such  institutions. 

A  scheme  presented  itself  which,  if  feasible,  would 
to  a  great  extent  mitigate,  and,  in  many  cases, 
completely  remedy  the  ills  of  thousands  of  old  sol- 
diers and  their  families.  If  a  colony  could  be  es- 
tablished in  a  favorable  location,  with  a  guarantee 
as  to  the  safety  of  personal  property  rights  and  in- 
terests, and  at  small  cost,  many  would  probably  be 
attracted  to  the  enterprise  and  join  it.  As  Boyd's 
mind  became  imbued  with  the  scheme,  other  ques- 
tions arose,  such  as  the  cHmate,  soil,  products,  the 
State  or  Territory  in  which  the  colony  should  be 
planted,  and  access  to  the  seaboard,  rivers  and  rail- 
roads. To  found  and  conserve  the  wants  and  in- 
terests of  such  a  colony  would  require  a  large  tract 
of  land,  well  watered,  heavily  timbered,  rich  in  soil 
and  mineral  deposits,  and  situated  in  a  mild,  equa- 
ble climate,  not  subject  to  great  extremes  of  heat 
and  cold,  and  exempt  from  floods  and  seasons  of 
drought. 

To  obtain  data  on  these  points,  a  deal  of  corre- 
spondence was  had  with  Governors  of  States, 
judges.  Members  of  Congress  and  other  intelligent 
men,  and,  out  of  it  all,  there  was  evolved  a  conclu- 
sion as  to  the  State  in  which  the  colony  should  be 
established. 

A  circumstance  connected  with  the  estate  of 
Aunt  Milgrove,  now  deceased,  must  be  intro- 
duced. On  opening  her  last  will  and  testament  it 
was  found  that  her  farm  in  Alabama  had  been  de- 


LIGHT  AHEAD  173 

vised  to  Boyd  and  his  wife.  Here  was  a  key  to 
the  situation,  provided  the  farm  was  suitably 
located,  and  additional  lands  could  be  bought  at  a 
moderate  price.  With  the  deed  and  certain  corre- 
spondence in  hand,  he  visited  the  farm,  examined 
the  records,  and  had  them  amended  to  show  that 
he  and  Mrs.  Boyd  were  now  the  owners.  The  farm 
was  situated  in  the  northern  central  part  of  the 
State,  a  short  distance  from  the  foot  hills  of  the 
Allegheny  range.  A  proposal  on  the  part  of  the 
State  was  before  him  to  sell  to  responsible  parties 
one  hundred  thousand  acres,  more  or  less,  in  a 
solid  body,  at  a  low  price  and  on  favorable  terms, 
for  the  founding  of  a  colony. 

In  conjunction  with  several  ex-soldiers,  pos- 
sessed of  ample  means,  the  purchase  was  made,  and 
deeds  and  records  of  the  transaction  duly  executed. 
Boyd  and  his  wife  then  deeded  to  the  company 
their  farm,  without  price  or  compensation. 

Several  newspapers  of  wide  circulation  published 
the  facts  in  detail,  with  the  names  and  addresses  of 
the  authors  and  promoters  of  the  colony.  A 
voluminous  correspondence  between  them  and 
thousands  of  soldiers  ensued.  The  plans  of 
the  owners  were  approved  and  hailed  by  all,  but 
especially  by  those  who  had  been  farmers,  me- 
chanics and  artisans,  and  very  many  announced 
their  intention  to  become  members  and  residents. 
Boyd  and  his  partners  felt  assured  of  the  success 
of  the  undertaking,  and  necessary  measures  and 
steps  were  taken  for  the  surveys,  platting,  number- 
ing and  recording  of  lots  and  famis. 


XVI. 

THE  WANDERER'S  RETURN. 

The  inauguration  of  a  President  brings  an  im- 
mense concourse  of  people  to  the  Capital.  On 
such  occasions  from  two  to  three  hundred  thou- 
sand strangers  have  been  housed,  fed  and  other- 
wise accommodated.  So  wide  and  unobstructed 
are  the  avenues  and  streets,  and  so  experienced  are 
the  keepers  of  hotels,  boarding  houses  and  other 
hostelries  that  all  visitors  are  royally  treated,  and 
return  to  their  homes  to  sound  praises  of  the  city 
and  its  appointments. 

At  the  designated  hour  a  procession,  limited  in 
numbers,  conducts  the  newly  elected  President 
and  the  retiring  one,  to  the  Capitol,  where  the  for- 
mer takes  the  prescribed  oath  of  office,  and  then, 
standing  on  the  east  portico  of  the  building,  deliv- 
ers his  inaugural  address.  Now  the  popular  part 
of  the  fete  begins.  The  new  President  and  the  ex- 
President  return  to  the  White  House,  followed  by 
a  vast  procession,  composed  of  detachments  from 
the  Army  and  the  Navy,  portions  of  the  national 
guards  from  several  States,  veterans  of  the  G.  A. 
R.,  sons  of  veterans,  and  civic  organizations  with- 
out number — the  entire  line  often  being  from  five 
to  ten  miles  in  length.  The  new  President,  stand- 
ing on  a  platform  at  the  front  of  the  White  House 


THE  WANDERER'S  RETURN  175 

grounds,  reviews  the  procession,  which  disbands 
in  sections,  after  passing  and  saluting  him. 

Of  this  kind,  and  on  this  order,  was  a  certain 
inauguration  in  the  eighties.  After  it  had  ended, 
and  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Boyd  and  several  visiting 
friends  had  returned  to  the  house,  there  came  hob- 
bling up  the  parking  in  front  a  man,  supported  by- 
one  sound  leg  and  a  peg  attached  to  the  knee  of 
the  other  leg,  the  lower  portion  of  which  was  want- 
ing. He  was,  seemingly,  thirty-five  or  more  years 
old,  his  hair  and  beard  were  long  and  shaggy,  his 
clothing  was  shabby  and  more  than  half  worn,  and, 
surmounting  all,  was  an  ancient,  broad-brimmed, 
gray  slouch  hat.  A  servant,  answ^ering  the  door 
bell,  was  asked  by  this  man  whether  Colonel  Boyd 
lived  there.  Being  informed  affirmatively,  he  ex- 
pressed a  v^sh  to  see  the  colonel.  The  servant 
reporting  the  fact  to  Boyd  was  asked  what  the  man 
wanted  and  what  his  name  was.  "He  didn't  give 
his  name  and  didn't  tell  his  business,"  said  the  ser- 
vant. Boyd  went  to  the  door  and,  looking  the 
stranger  full  in  the  face,  said : 

"Well,  sir,  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?" 

"Are  you  not  Colonel  Boyd  that  I  saw  at  White 
House  Landing  in  June,  1864?"  asked  the  man. 

"I  am  Colonel  Boyd,  and  who  are  you?"  in- 
quired Boyd. 

"Don't  you  remember  me  ?"  asked  the  seedy  one. 

Looking  at  him  sharply,  Boyd  rushed  to  him,  ex- 
claiming, "As  I  am  living,  it  is — Bertrand  Long,  so 
long  lost !" 


176  THE  LAST  MAN 

Grasping  an  arm  and  hand,  Boyd  led  him  into 
the  hallway,  the  two  men  hugged  each  other,  and 
stood  for  moments  speechless,  while  dewy  eyes 
attested  the  depth  of  emotions  ''too  big  for  utter- 
ance." 

Mr.  Long  broke  the  silence.     "Where  is  Sis?" 

"In  the  house  here?  Do  you  know  who  she  is 
now,  Bertrand  ?"  asked  Boyd. 

"No,  tell  me,"  said  Long. 

"She  is  Mrs.  Boyd — my  wife — and  you  are  my 
brother,  Bertrand !" 

"How  long  ago  were  you  married?"  pursued 
Long. 

"In  the  fall  of  1865.  We  lived  in  West  Virginia 
for  several  years,  and  have  been  living  here  since 
then.  But  you  want  to  see  Alena."  He  touched 
an  electric  bell,  a  servant  came,  and  Boyd  said, 
"Ask  Mrs.  Boyd  to  come  to  the  library."  Then  to 
Long,  "Now,  Bertrand,  when  she  comes  don't 
speak  till  I  give  you  a  sign  or  word.  Here  she 
comes." 

Stealing  a  timid  glance  at  the  stranger,  she 
waited  for  Boyd  to  speak. 

"Mrs.  Boyd,"  said  he,  "have  we  a  vacant  room 
and  bed  for  this  man  to-night?  He  seems  ex- 
hausted and  sick,  perhaps,  and  if  we  can  it  will  be 
the  right  thing  to  shelter  and  take  care  of  him  till 
to-morrow." 

"Yes,"  said  she,  "there  are  two  rooms  on  the 
third  floor ;  give  him  one  of  them." 

The  stransfer  was  ill  at  ease  as  these  words  were 


THE  WANDERER'S   RETURN  177 

exchanged  between  husband  and  wife,  and  produc- 
ing a  handkerchief  appHed  it  to  his  face  and  eyes. 

"Mrs.  Boyd,"  said  the  colonel,  his  voice  quiver- 
ing somewhat,  "have  you  ever  seen  this  man  be- 
fore?" 

"No,  I  think  not,"  said  she. 

"Look  at  him  closely,"  said  Boyd ;  "he  may  have 
seen  you  during  the  war." 

"I  do  not  remember  seeing  him  then,  or  at  any 
other  time,"  said  she. 

"Stranger,"  said  Boyd,  "tell  her  where  and  when 
you  saw  her." 

"Standing  in  the  door  of  a  hospital  near  Rich- 
mond, after  the  battle  of  Gettysburg,"  said  the  man. 

Alena  sprang  to  her  feet  as  though  shot  up  by 
a  charge  of  dynamite.  She  stood  transfixed.  His 
voice  revealed  all.  Then,  with  an  impulsive  bound, 
she  rushed  to  him,  threw  her  arms  about  him, 
kissed  him  again  and  again,  crying  and  ejaculating, 
"O,  my  dear,  dear,  long-lost  brother!  Where 
have  you  been  all  this  time?  Why  didn't  you 
come  to  us  sooner?  Oh,  Bertrand,  what  have  you 
been  doing  ever  since  the  war?"  These  and  simi- 
lar words,  punctuated  with  kisses,  occupied  many 
moments.  The  men  were  speechless  before  this 
revelation  of  long-pent-up,  despairing,  but  now 
ardent,  ebullient,  sisterly  love. 

"Bertrand,"  said  she,  "I  mourned  you  as  dead 
long,  long  ago,  and  now  as  I  look  at  you  I  feel 
just  as  though  you  had  been  dead,  and  were  now 

12 


178  THE  LAST  MAN 

resurrected."  What  a  meeting!  Aye,  it  was  in- 
deed a  resurrection  of  dead  hopes  and  memories. 

"Come,  now,  Bertrand,"  said  Boyd,  "go  Vv^ith 
me  to  your  room  and  wash  and  brush  up  for  din- 
ner, and  this  evening  you  and  Alena  and  I  will 
come  here  and  you  will  give  an  account  of  your- 
self." Bertrand  was  soon  alone  in  a  room  more 
completely  furnished  than  any  he  had  ever  seen. 
What  with  the  purifying  and  beautifying  influ- 
ences of  soap,  water,  towels,  combs  and  brushes, 
the  man's  appearance  was  sensibly  improved  when 
he  returned  to  the  library.  The  three,  Alena  lead- 
ing the  brother,  repaired  to  the  dining  hall  and 
broke  bread  together  for  the  first  time.  The 
guests  at  other  tables  wondered  and  speculated  as 
to  the  status  of  the  stranger,  so  unlike  the  colonel 
and  Mrs.  Boyd,  in  both  dress  and  address.  Enough, 
though,  to  see  that  he  was  in  some  way  intimately 
associated  with  them.  Dinner  over,  the  colonel 
made  his  excuses  to  the  guests  for  the  evening, 
and  returned  with  the  brother  and  Alena  to  the 
library.  "Now,  Bertrand,"  said  he,  "tell  your 
story." 

"Well,  Colonel,"  began  the  brother,  "after  I  left 
you  at  White  House,  Virginia,  we  were  shipped 
to  New  York,  and  then  to  Edenton,  where  we  were 
put  into  a  camp  for  prisoners,  and  kept  there  till 
March,  1865,  when  we  were  shipped  back  to  Vir- 
ginia again,  were  exchanged,  and  rejoined  our 
commands. 

"W'hile  prisoners,  we  had  a  jolly  time,  plenty  to 


THE  WANDERER'S  RETURN  179 

eat,  good  quarters,  and  nothing  to  do  but  keep 
the  camp  clean  and  wash  our  clothes.  I  hadn't 
been  there  a  month  till  my  warlike  spirit  began  to 
weaken,  and  in  two  months  I  began  to  wish  I 
might  never  be  exchanged,  and  stand  up  again  to 
shoot,  and  be  shot  at.  I  learned  from  the  soldiers 
who  guarded  us  that  the  Government  was  deter- 
mined to  put  down  the  'rebellion,'  as  they  called 
it,  and  that  there  were  still  a  million  or  more  men 
who  had  not  yet  been  in  the  service.  They  said  all 
this  without  bragging,  and  in  such  a  cool,  calculat- 
ing way  that  my  fiery  spirit  was  greatly  calmed, 
and  I  wished  I  was  done  with  the  war.  But  the 
spring  of  1865  came,  and  we  were  in  our  camps 
and  forts  in  and  around  Richmond,  waiting  for 
what  was  sure  to  come — for  a  common  soldier  is 
nothing  but  a  pawn  on  a  military  chess-board, 
liable  to  be  lost  at  the  next  move. 

"Well,  sir,  the  signs  of  an  attack  on  Richmond 
increased  and  we  felt  that  the  man  then  command- 
ing the  Government  armies — God  bless  him  ! — 
had  the  Southern  Confederacy  by  the  throat,  and 
would  never  let  loose  till  General  Lee's  army 
should  be  no  more. 

"You  remember.  Colonel,  that  I  said  to  you,  in 
1864,  that  'the  Yankee  shell  or  bullet  would  never 
be  fired  that  would  hurt  me,'  and  you  told  me  I 
was  fooHsh  to  talk  so.  And  so  I  was.  We  were 
driven  out  of  Richmond,  followed,  and  finally 
hemmed  in  near  Appomattox.  The  last  fight  was 
going  on,  and,  all  at  once,  I  felt  a  dull  shock  in 


180  THE  LAST  MAN 

this  leg,  tottered  and  fell,  and  a  look  showed  that 
my  foot  and  ankle  were  shattered  into  fragments. 
Bye  and  bye  the  Yankees  came  and  passed  on,  and 
then  their  surgeons  and  stretchers  and  ambulances, 
and  a  man  accosted  me,  'Say,  Johnny,  do  you  want 
to  go  along  with  us?'  I  said  yes,  for  anything 
was  better  than  to  be  left  there  alone.  Then  he 
and  another  man  picked  me  up  and  put  me  into 
an  ambulance  with  a  wounded  Yankee,  and  the 
vehicle  moved  on.  Soon  there  was  a  great  shout 
from  the  Yankee  army,  and  the  firing  ceased.  Gen- 
eral Lee  had  surrendered.  After  some  time  a 
surgeon  came  to  our  ambulance,  looked  at  the 
Yankee's  wound,  put  a  bandage  around  his  arm, 
and  gave  him  a  drink  of  whiskey.  Then  he 
looked  at  my  foot,  bandaged  it,  gave  me  a  drink, 
and  at  leaving  said,  'Johnny,  do  you  want  to  live 
awhile  longer?'  I  said,  T  certainly  do.'  Then  he 
said,  'Then  that  foot  will  have  to  come  ofif  to- 
night.' In  the  evening  he  returned  with  two  at- 
tendants, and  after  putting  a  new  bandage  on  the 
arm  of  the  wounded  Yankee,  they  lifted  me  out 
of  the  ambulance,  and,  placing  me  on  a  table,  gave 
me  chloroform,  and  I  knew  nothing  more  till  I 
came  to  my  senses  again.  My  foot  and  ankle  were 
gone,  I  was  very  sick  and  weak,  and  thought  I 
was  going  to  die.  The  kindness  and  care  of  the 
Yankee  nurses  saved  my  life,  and  they  have  never 
been  forgotten.  In  a  few  days  I  was  put  into  a 
hospital  with  many  wounded  Union  men,  and  was 
treated  as  well  as  the  best  of  them.     At  the  end  of 


THE  WANDERER'S   RETURN  181 

three  months  I  was  quite  well,  and  the  surgeons 
told  me  I  could  go.  I  shook  hands  with  all  the 
boys,  and  started  away  on  my  good  leg  and  this 
peg,  which  was  made  and  fastened  to  my  stump 
by  a  good-hearted  Yankee.  Where  I  was  to  go, 
I  knew  not.  I  hunted  for  Aunt  and  Sis  all  through 
Richmond,  but  failed  to  find  them,  and  learned 
that  they  had  gone  South  somewhere.  I  tramped 
all  that  summer,  and  was  often  nearly  starved,  and 
was  soon  almost  naked.  Sometimes  the  con- 
ductor of  a  freight  train  would  let  me  ride  forty 
or  fifty  miles,  and  give  me  something  to  eat.  Then 
I  would  tramp  again  for  some  days.  Finally  I 
reached  Montgomery,  Alabama.  I  got  a  place 
with  a  man  living  a  short  distance  out  of  town,  to 
do  light  work  and  chores  about  the  house  and 
barn.  It  was  a  slave's  place,  but  I  had  seen  good 
people  at  my  boyhood  home,  and  over  in  Ohio,  do 
such  work,  and  I  did  it  cheerfully.  In  a  few 
months  I  was  trusted  with  the  teams  and  hauling 
for  the  farm,  and  made  myself  so  useful  to  the 
man  that  he  put  my  wages  up  several  times  with- 
out the  asking.  By  his  energy,  industry  and 
shrewdness  his  farm  paid  him  big  profits,  and  he 
was  getting  rich,  while  all  his  neighbors  were 
poor.  I  saved  some  money,  which,  in  a  few  years, 
amounted  to  quite  a  sum  for  a  poor,  lame,  work- 
ing man.  But  last  year  Mr.  Purvis  died,  his  es- 
tate had  to  be  settled,  the  farm,  stock  and  utensils 
were  sold,  and  I  was  homeless  again. 

"There    was    nothing   to    do    but    to    look    for 


182  THE  LAST  MAN 

another  place.  But  I  found  nothing  that  would 
compare  with  the  old  place.  I  kept  on  hunting 
and  drifting  further  south  till  I  reached  New  Or- 
leans. I  hoped  to  get  a  place  in  some  store  or 
shop,  where  I  would  not  be  obliged  to  walk  much, 
but  I  soon  found  I  could  not  compete  with  sound 
men  in  active  pursuits,  or  in  hard  labor,  and,  for 
want  of  a  business  training,  I  could  not  secure  a 
place  as  a  salesman.  While  jogging  about,  I  went 
into  a  pawn  shop,  and  was  looking  at  things,  when 
I  spied  a  big,  old-fashioned,  queer-looking  watch, 
without  a  case.  By  permission  I  examined  it 
closely,  and  read  some  words  engraved  on  it, 
which  astonished  me.  Ah,  here  it  is."  He  drew 
from  an  inside  breast  pocket  a  circular  case  or 
box,  within  which  were  the  substantial  parts  of  a 
watch.  Boyd  took  it  into  a  strong  light  and  read 
these  words : 

' '  Presented  to  the  Margjiis  de  Lafayette  i7i  token 
of  recognition  of  his  distinguished  services  in  the 
war  for  the  independence  of  the  United  States  of 
America.  George  Washington.'" 

It  was  now  Colonel  Boyd's  turn  to  be  aston- 
ished. The  workmanship,  dates  and  inscription 
showed  that  the  watch  was  genuine  and  that  it 
must  have  been  presented  to  Lafayette  while  he 
and  Washington  were  still  living,  probably  between 
1 78 1  and  1799,  the  year  of  Washington's  death. 

"Bertrand,"  said  Boyd,  "this  is  a  great  find ; 
rich,  rare,  and  full  of  mystery.     Keep  it  safe  till 


THE  WANDERER'S  RETURN  183 

we  have  leisure,  when  we  will  try  to  ascertain  the 
facts  and  circumstances.  At  present  I  want  to 
hear  the  conclusion  of  your  story." 

"Well,"  said  Bertrand,  "there  is  not  much  more 
to  tell.  I  had  been  hoping  all  those  years  to  see 
Washington  some  time.  I  was  completely  recon- 
structed and  Yankeeized,  though  I  didn't  dare  to 
say  so,  and  was  longing  to  see  the  old  flag  again, 
and  stand  beneath  its  folds  as  they  fluttered  in  the 
breeze.  I  knew,  or  felt,  rather,  Sis,  that  you 
would  marry  the  Colonel  at  the  end  of  the  war,  if 
you  were  both  alive,  and  he  wanted  you,  and  I 
began  to  imagine  I  might  find  you  here  during  the 
inauguration.  So  I  bought  a  ticket  and  came  on, 
three  days  ago.  I  asked  the  hotel  clerk  whether 
he  knew  Colonel  Boyd.  'Where  does  he  live?' 
asked  he.  'Why,  here  in  this  city,  I  think,'  said  I. 
'What  is  the  street  and  number?'  asked  he.  'O,  I 
don't  know  anything  about  your  streets  and  num- 
bers,' said  I,  'but  I  thought  you  might  know  him.' 
He  opened  a  big  book  and  turned  to  a  page 
where  there  were  a  dozen  or  more  of  the  name. 
'Here's    your    man,    I    reckon,'    said    he.     'Alfred 

Boyd,   223  Street,   N.   W.'     He   wrote   the 

name  and  number  on  this  piece  of  paper,  and  after 
the  procession  was  done  I  started  out  to  find  you, 
and  found  you  I  have,  thank  God !     That's  all." 

While  he  was  talking  Alena  sat  close  to  him, 
holding  his  hand,  looking  fixedly  in  his  face,  and 
often  silently  weeping.  "Now  let  us  go  to  the 
drawing  room,"  said  Boyd,  and  entering,  Bertrand 


184  THE  LAST  MAN 

was  introduced  to  the  guests  as  a  long-lost 
brother.  This  led  to  some  conversation  about  the 
war,  when  it  transpired  that  four  of  those  present, 
Boyd,  Bertrand,  and  two  of  the  guests,  had  been 
at  Chancellorsville.  How  they  talked,  these  men 
of  the  Blue  and  the  Gray — without  animosity,  or 
any  feeling  but  that  of  a  kind  of  fraternity  or  com- 
radery. 

Within  a  few  days  all  the  friends  had  gone,  and 
Boyd,  remembering  his  obligation  and  promise  to 
Bertrand,  began  to  devise  plans  for  his  advantage. 

The  first  thing  was  to  ascertain  whether  an  arti- 
ficial foot  and  ankle  could  be  supplied  and  adapted. 
The  efifort  was  successful,  and  within  two  months 
the  man  was  walking  comfortably  and  with  a  halt 
scarcely  perceptible — thanks  to  the  advanced  state 
of  surgical  science  and  appliances.  Soon  his  phy- 
sical condition,  dress  and  personal  appearances 
were  so  improved  that  he  would  never  be  taken 
for  the  poor,  decrepit  cripple  who  had  stood  at 
Colonel  Boyd's  gate,  some  months  previous,  look- 
ing for  all  the  world  like  a  tramp  or  vagabond. 

The  next  step  was  to  devise  some  vocation  by 
which  the  man  could  maintain  himself,  and  thus 
preserve  his  self-respect  and  independence. 

In  relation  to  the  watch,  Colonel  Boyd  called 
upon  the  Secretary  of  State,  laid  before  him  the 
circumstances  under  which  the  timepiece  came 
into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Long,  and  expressed  his 
earnest  desire,  as  well  as  that  of  Long,  that  it 
should  be  returned  to  the  rightful  descendant,  or 


THE  ^^ANDERER'S  RETURN  185 

heir,  of  General  Lafayette.  The  Secretary,  appre- 
ciating the  plain  duty  of  the  Government,  and  the 
propriety  of  the  suggested  return  of  the  watch, 
proposed  to  purchase  it  for  the  United  States  and 
then  open  correspondence  with  the  French  Repub- 
lic, looking  to  its  return  to  the  rightful  owner. 
But  Long  declined  to  set  a  price  upon  it,  prefer- 
ring to  present  it  to  the  Government,  on  the  sole 
condition  that  he  should  receive  a  certificate  from 
the  Secretary  of  State,  detailing  the  circumstances 
attending  its  recovery,  which  should  be  stamped 
with  the  great  seal  of  the  United  States.  Long's 
proposal  was  accepted,  and  after  much  corres- 
pondence through  the  French  Ambassador,  with 
his  government,  and  a  laborious  search  for  the 
descendant  of  Lafayette  to  whom  the  watch  would 
rightfully  belong,  it  was  sent  to  France,  and  is 
now  in  possession  of  Madam  Montpensier,  a  great- 
granddaughter  of  the  General. 


XVII. 
THE  COLONY. 

The  lands  of  the  colony  had  been  thoroughly 
surveyed,  platted,  numbered  and  recorded.  A  rec- 
tangle of  twelve  hundred  acres  was  first  located  as 
the  site  of  a  city.  The  surface  of  this,  as  well  as 
all  the  lands,  sloped  gently  southward.  Through 
the  middle  of  the  rectangle  flowed  two  large 
brooks  of  purest,  clearest,  soft  water,  from  great 
perennial  springs,  miles  above,  in  the  mountains. 
The  brooks  united  just  below  the  southern  border 
of  the  rectangle,  forming  a  stream  of  considerable 
volume,  which,  a  mile  or  more  further  down,  tum- 
bled over  a  ledge  some  twenty  feet  in  height.  The 
entire  area  was  yet  a  virgin  forest  of  pine,  chest- 
nut, oak,  poplar,  cherry  and  other  woods.  In  its 
center,  above  the  junction  of  the  brooks,  there 
was  described  a  circle  of  large  diameter,  within 
which  should  be  erected  the  city  hall.  In  addition 
to  the  streets,  trending  with  the  points  of  the  com- 
pass, and  crossing  at  right  angles,  there  were  wide 
avenues,  cutting  the  streets  at  acute  angles,  and 
at  their  intersections  were  circles  for  the  planting 
of  statues,  trees  and  flowers. 

Outside  the  plat  for  the  city,  the  lands  were 
divided  into  lots  and  small  farms  of  five,  ten, 
twenty,  and  forty  acres,  the  largest  being  farthest 


THE  COLONY  187 

from  the  city,  and  all  so  located  that  every  lot  had 
an  outlet  into  a  street  or  highway  leading  to  the 
city. 

Every  alternate  lot  and  farm  was  reserved  by 
the  company  for  sale  in  the  future,  and  four-fifths 
of  the  lots  and  farms  to  be  offered  were  to  be  sold 
exclusively  to  ex-soldiers  or  their  widows.  The 
remaining  fifth  would  be  sold  to  merchants,  trades- 
men and  professional  men.  The  price  of  each  lot 
and  farm  was  fixed,  and,  on  its  payment,  and  the 
signing  of  an  agreement  to  erect  on  the  lot  either 
a  residence  or  business  house  within  two  years,  or 
forfeit  the  lot,  the  purchaser  secured  his  posses- 
sion through  a  drawing  by  lot. 

Visitors,  singly  and  in  groups,  came  to  see,  to 
approve,  and  to  purchase  on  these  terms  and  in- 
ducements. 

The  State  laws  and  municipal  regulations  of  the 
counties  were  to  be  faithfully  observed.  The  orig- 
inal contract  with  the  State  prohibited  the  estab- 
lishment or  existence  of  drinking  houses,  gam- 
bling dens,  and  other  places  of  evil  resort.  For  the 
same  good  reason,  horse  racing  for  money,  prize 
fighting,  and  the  like,  were  interdicted.  Adher- 
ence to  such  conditions,  it  was  admitted,  would 
shut  out  an  influx  of  certain  classes  of  people,  but 
it  would  as  certainly  shut  out  their  vices,  crimes 
and  misdemeanors. 

Within  six  months  more  than  a  thousand  sales 
had  been  made.  In  eighteen  months  three-fourths 
of  all  lots  and  tracts  open  to  purchase  had  been 


188  THE  LAST  MAN 

sold.  The  owners  and  their  famiUes  were  coming, 
many  of  them  had  come,  and  the  sounds  of  axes, 
hammers,  saws  and  anvils  rang  out  in  every  direc- 
tion. Buildings  rose  as  if  by  magic.  Forests  fell, 
and  farms  took  their  places.  A  saw  mill,  a  planing 
mill,  a  brick  manufactory,  a  machine  shop,  black- 
smith and  carpenter  shops,  and  other  industrial 
plants  were  rapidly  established.  A  population  of 
more  than  two  thousand  was  assured  the  first  year. 
The  second  year  saw  a  town  of  fifteen  hundred  in- 
habitants, surrounded  by  a  population  of  more 
than  five  thousand,  engaged  in  farming,  gardening 
and  fruit  culture.  The  most  improved  methods 
and  implements  for  land  culture,  first-class  seeds 
and  plants,  and  persevering  attention  to  business 
showed  surprising  and  gratifying  results.  Better 
stocks  of  horses,  kine,  hogs  and  poultry  were  in- 
troduced and  propagated.  A  surplus  of  all  pro- 
ducts in  excess  of  ten  per  cent,  over  and  above 
that  which  was  used  by  the  community,  demon- 
strated the  success  of  the  enterprise. 

At  the  end  of  ten  years  every  lot,  and  every 
acre,  that  could  be  bought  was  owned  and  im- 
proved, and  the  population  of  the  city  was  between 
thirty  and  forty  thousand.  A  grand  city  hall,  pat- 
terned after  the  Capitol  at  Washington,  a  music 
hall  with  a  seating  capacity  of  several  thousand,  a 
free  library  of  many  thousands  of  volumes,  a  gal- 
lery of  fine  arts,  four  large  churches  of  most  mod- 
ern and  complete  construction,  and  a  thoroughly 
equipped,    adequate    supply    of    school    buildings, 


THE  COLONY  189 

and  a  system  of  graded  public  schools,  conducted 
on  the  latest  and  most  approved  methods,  crowned 
and  glorified  the  colonial  enterprise. 

A  literary  club  of  high  order  was  organized  and 
maintained.  Lecturers  and  literati  of  national  re- 
nown, and  musicians  of  world-wide  repute  visited 
and  contributed  to  the  culture  and  entertainment 
of  the  people.  The  post-office — "Boyd" — named 
after  the  projector,  became  what  is  known  as  a 
Presidential  office  after  the  second  year.  Manu- 
factories of  iron,  steel,  machinery,  cotton,  and 
other  fabrics  sprang  up,  running  their  machinery 
with  the  water  power  derived  from  the  falls  below 
the  city.  Railroad  companies  extended  their  fines 
to  the  city  and  soon  realized  large  profits. 

The  entire  scheme,  from  start  to  finish,  was  a 
most  complete,  practical  solution  and  illustration 
of  a  semi-co-operative  community,  united  in  all 
things  vital  to  its  success,  and  independent  in  all 
else.  A  multitude  of  ex-soldiers  and  their  families 
were  rescued  from  a  condition  of  penury  and  want 
and  became  not  merely  self-sustaining,  but  even 
well-to-do,  many  having  comfortable  bank  ac- 
counts. 

One  of  the  finest  residences  was  built  and  fur- 
nished by  Colonel  Boyd,  and  here  he  and  Mrs. 
Boyd  lived  a  part  of  each  year.  Mr.  Bertrand 
Long  was  a  part  of  the  family,  and  when  Boyd  and 
wife  were  absent  he  was  in  full  control.  He  had 
been  installed  in  a  paying  situation  in  the  city  hall, 
and,  after  a  few  years,   married  the  widow  of  a 


190  THE  LAST  MAN 

Union  soldier,  and  thus  were  the  North  and  the 
South  united  a  second  time. 

There  was  one  thought,  or  fancy,  rather,  in 
Boyd's  mind  which  had  not  yet  materialized.  In 
an  age  when  the  memory  of  great  events  and  great 
men  is  perpetuated  in  bronze,  and  marble,  and 
monuments,  why  should  there  not  be  a  memorial 
of  some  description  erected  to  commemorate  the 
existence  of  the  aborigines,  who  had,  for  centuries 
— aye,  for  ages,  perhaps — owned  and  occupied  the 
country,  before  the  whites  came?  Here,  where 
the  colony  now  existed,  the  Cherokees,  Choctaws, 
Creeks,  Shawnees  and  other  powerful  tribes  had 
roamed,  lived  and  hunted  from  time  immemorial. 
When  the  white  men  of  Alabama,  Georgia  and  Mis- 
sissippi saw  that  the  lands  owned  by  Indians  were 
the  very  best  in  these  States,  a  sentiment  grew  up 
and  became  popular  that  the  owners  should  be, 
by  some  means,  dispossessed  of  their  holdings. 
But  solemn  treaties  existed  between  the  Govern- 
ment and  the  Indians,  guaranteeing-  the  lands  to 
the  latter  and  their  descendants  forever,  and  pro- 
tecting the  whites  against  the  tomahawk  and  scalp- 
ing knife  of  the  Indian.  What  could,  and  should 
be  done?  How  long  are  treaties  binding?  Just 
so  long  as  both  parties  observe  them.  When,  and 
under  the  provisions  of  what  treaty,  was  the  In- 
dian ever  protected  against  the  rapacity  of  the 
white  man?  One  alone — that  between  the  Qua- 
ker William  Penn  and  certain  tribes.  The  archives 
of  the  Government  will  show  that  all  other  treaties 


THE  COLONY  191 

have  been  broken  or  treated  with  scant  respect  by 
the  whites. 

The  so-called  Indian  Territory  of  to-day  is  but 
a  remnant  of  the  domain  ceded  to  the  red  man  in 
exchange  for  his  possessions  in  the  States  pre- 
viously named.  Of  this,  slice  after  slice  has  been 
severed  from  the  original,  and  even  now  clandes- 
tine designs  exist  to  rob  the  Indian  of  what  yet 
remains. 

Subscriptions  having  been  secured  for  the  requi- 
site amount,  correspondence  was  had  with  a  num- 
ber of  sculptors,  from  whose  models  one  by  an 
eminent  artist  was  chosen.  The  dedication  of  the 
monument  was  to  be  made  a  notable  occasion. 
The  governors  of  three  States,  with  their  oflficial 
families,  and  the  President  and  his  Cabinet,  were 
invited  to  honor  the  event  with  their  presence. 
The  journals  of  the  country  published  the  coming 
festival.  The  beautiful  spring  day  came,  and  with 
it  came  a  motley  multitude.  In  a  campus  full  of 
native  trees  was  a  platform  of  ample  dimensions, 
upon  which  sat  the  guests  of  honor.  In  the  rear 
of  the  platform  was  a  huddle  of  Indian  tepees, 
within  which  was  a  delegation  of  the  descendants 
of  the  aborigines,  who  had  come  hither  in  response 
to  urgent  friendly  invitation  and  solicitation.  The 
formalities  of  the  day  had  progressed  to  the  close 
of  an  elaborate  oration  by  Colonel  Boyd,  ending 
with  the  words :  "I  now  have  the  pleasure,  fel- 
low-citizens, of  presenting  to  you  some  fine  speci- 
mens of  the  race  that  formerly  owned  all  this  coun- 


192  THE  LAST  MAN 

try,  in  whose  memory  we  are  soon  to  unveil  yon- 
der monument !"  Then  to  the  taps  of  an  Indian 
drum  came  on  the  platform,  in  single  file,  a  score 
or  more  of  men,  women  and  children,  in  native 
costumes,  a  chief  marching  at  the  head  of  the  line. 
They  stopped,  stood  stone  still  for  a  few  moments, 
gazed  at  the  great,  shouting  audience,  and,  at  a 
sign  by  the  chief,  assumed  a  squatting  attitude. 
Boyd  then  gave  a  signal,  the  drapery  conceaUng 
the  monument  was  removed,  and  there  stood,  in 
the  bright  light,  a  beautiful  square  monument  of 
red  marble,  some  eighteen  feet  in  height,  by  twelve 
feet  at  the  base.  On  the  summit  was  a  group  of 
lifelike  bronze  figures  of  Indians  in  pursuit  of 
game. 

When  the  applause  had  subsided,  Colonel  Boyd 
introduced  the  chief,  Miantanomi,  President  of  the 
Cherokee  Nation,  Indian  Territory.  He  rose  and 
strode  to  the  front  of  the  platform,  standing  full 
six  feet  four  inches  tall,  of  perfect  manly  mold, 
and  with  a  tinge  of  the  white  man's  blood  in  his 
face.  He  spoke  in  a  grand  bass  voice  whose  tones 
entranced  his  hearers. 

"White  people !  In  the  name  of  all  the  red 
men,  women  and  children,  here  and  in  our  far-ofT 
home,  I  thank  you  for  this  great  show,  on  this 
pretty  day,  at  this  happy  spot !  I  thank  the  big- 
h^rted  white  man  who  made  this  everlasting 
monument  to  the  memory  of  my  people,  thou- 
sands of  whom  are  sleeping  beneath  the  leaves  and 
grass  of  this  beautiful  country!     This  is  the  only 


^UE  COLONY  193 

monument  of  the  kind  made  by  the  white  man. 
The  red  man  never  makes  monuments.  But  he 
gave  names  to  the  mountains,  lakes  and  rivers,  and 
those  names  are  his  monuments.  If  white  men 
will  continue  to  use  the  names,  the  unwritten  his- 
tory of  the  red  man  will  live  forever,  proclaiming 
that  here  once  lived  and  loved  a  brave,  heroic  race 
whose  only  crime  was  that  their  mode  of  living  dif- 
fered from  that  of  the  white  man  so  greatly  that 
both  races  could  not  live  together,  and  one  or  the 
other  must  leave  the  country  to  the  other.  The 
red  man  was  more  cunning,  but  the  white  man 
was  the  stronger,  and  the  red  man  was  compelled 
to  leave  the  home  and  the  graves  of  his  forefathers 
and  go  to  a  new  country,  or  stay  and  be  killed  by 
the  white  man.  He  chose  to  go,  and  for  nearly  a 
thousand  moons  has  been  in  his  new,  and  perhaps 
his  last,  home,  beyond  the  great  river. 

"I  who  stand  before  you,  white  men,  am  part 
Indian  and  part  white  man.  My  mother  was  a 
daughter  of  the  chief  of  the  Cherokees.  A  white 
man  who  was  a  great  traveler,  and  very  wise,  came 
to  us  to  study  Indian  modes  of  living,  fell  in  love 
with  my  mother,  adopted  our  habits,  lived  as  In- 
dians live,  and  married  my  mother.  I  am  his  son. 
When  my  mother  died,  I  became  chief.  I  am 
proud  of  my  office  and  my  people.  But  I  am 
more  proud  of  my  mother's  blood  than  of  my 
father's.  Thousands  of  moons  ago,  a  young  brave 
and  the  daughter  of  the  chief  of  his  tribe  ran  away 
for  love,  because  her  father  would  not  let  them 
13 


194  THE  LAST  MAN 

marry  at  home.  The  young  brave  and  the  young 
woman  traveled  from  a  river  called  Kanawha  to 
the  Cherokee  country,  where  we  now  stand.  They 
joined  the  Cherokees,  and  their  children  married 
members  of  the  tribe.  My  mother  was  a  descend- 
ant of  that  young  man  and  woman,  and  I  am 
proud  of  it. 

"White  men !  I  am  glad  to  have  seen  the  home 
of  my  fathers.  When  I  go  back,  I  will  tell  my 
people  all  I  have  seen  and  heard  here.  The  Creeks 
and  Choctaws  also  shall  hear  of  these  things. 

"White  people !  We  may  never  see  each  other 
again.  But  when  the  last  day  comes,  which  your 
Great  Spirit  and  our  Great  Spirit  both  say  will 
come,  when  all  people,  red  and  white,  will  come  to 
life  again,  these  hills  and  valleys  will  be  filled 
with  a  great  multitude  of  both  colors.  Then,  and 
not  till  then,  the  red  man  will  have  a  standing  on 
these  lands  on  equal  footing  with  the  white  man 
who  took  them  from  him.  White  people,  farewell !" 

The  colony  still  lives,  and  is  Colonel  Boyd's  liv- 
ing monument.  It  flourishes  in  the  midst  of  a 
community  whose  men,  formerly  armed  enemies, 
are  now  staunch  friends  and  patrons,  mingling  and 
trading  with  its  people,  intermarrying  with  them, 
and  enjoying  to  the  full  their  many  superior 
advantages.  Instead  of  written  or  chiseled  inscrip- 
tions, the  tongues  and  voices  of  thousands  of  bene- 
ficiaries and  the  citizens  of  an  extensive  surround- 
ing country,  constitute  Boyd's  truthful,  indelible 
biography. 


XVIII. 
THE  BROKEN  LINK. 

Thus  had  passed  years  of  the  choicest  sweets 
and  deHghts  of  human  Hfe  within  the  Boyd  house- 
hold. But,  about  i88 — ,  Mrs.  Boyd  was  suddenly 
seized  by  what  seemed  to  be  a  slight  ailment, 
which  the  family  physician  regarded  as  a  harmless 
malady  that  would  yield  to  treatment  within  a  few 
days.  Instead,  however,  the  indisposition  in- 
creased, became  serious,  and  finally  excited  the 
apprehension  of  all,  including  the  physician.  Sev- 
eral weeks  passed,  and  the  patient  grew  steadily 
worse.  Her  appetite  failed,  the  color  faded  from 
her  cheeks  and  lips,  her  flesh  wasted,  her  voice  lost 
its  strength  and  resonance,  her  eyes  began  to  ex- 
change their  sparkling  brilliancy  for  a  far-off, 
steady,  introverted  look,  and,  more  serious  than 
all  else,  she  began  to  indulge  the  thought  that,  ere 
long,  she  should  die.  Physicians  and  her  husband 
combated,  with  rarest  skill  and  unremitting  efforts, 
this  phase  of  her  condition.  In  vain.  Daily,  al- 
most hourly,  she  waned,  and  at  last  it  became  evi- 
dent that  the  residue  of  her  life  was  limited.  Her 
heart  had  now  taken  on  an  abnormal  inactivity 
which  presaged  the  inevitable  result. 

She  manifested  no  fear  of  death,  but  spoke  often 
of  it  as  an  event  that  must  come  to  her,  as  it  would 
to  all  others. 


196  THE  LAST  MAN 

Perceiving  that  all  were  aware  of  her  condition, 
she  said  to  her  husband  : 

"My  dear,  where  will  you  choose  to  bury  me?" 

Avoiding  the  question,  he  said : 

"I  had  never  thought  of  it,  Alena." 

"But  we  ought  to  think  of  it,  and  decide  about  it, 
dear.  Shall  we  not  choose  a  place  where  you  will 
come,  bye  and  bye,  and  sleep  by  my  side?" 

"O,  yes,  Alena,"  said  he,  "I  have  always  wished 
that  we  might  be  interred  side  by  side,  but  I  have 
thought  you  would  live  to  bury  me." 

"Ah,  that  can't  be,"  said  she ;  "it  is  otherwise 
ordered,  and  well  ordered.  Say,  dear,  where  shall 
you  be  buried?" 

"Well,"  said  Boyd,  in  tremulous  tones,  "I  have 
always  felt  a  desire  to  be  buried  in  Arlington." 

"Then  in  Arlington  let  it  be,"  said  she. 

On  another  day  she  said : 

"You  will  probably  marry  again  after  I  am  gone, 
dear." 

"Never,"  said  Boyd.  "I  could  never  love  another 
woman  as  I  have  loved  you,  Alena,  and  I  would 
never  marry  a  woman  that  I  did  not  love  with  my 
whole  heart." 

"But  you  would  be  so  lonely  that  you  would 
better  choose  some  good  woman  for  whom  you 
would  have  the  highest  degree  of  respect,  and 
bring  her  here  to  enjoy  this  beautiful  home,  and 
abide  with,  and  comfort  you." 

"No,  no,"  persisted  Boyd,  "I  could  not,  and 
would  not,  entertain  the  thought  for  a  moment. 


THE  BROKEN  LINK  197 

No,  I  shall  remain  single,  if — you  should  leave  me. 
But  cheer  up,  dear,  we  are  all  hoping  you  will  live 
many  years  yet,  and  perhaps  lay  me  away." 

"Oh,  no,"  said  she,  "that  is  settled,  and  I  do  pray 
that  you  will  be  ready  when  the  time  comes,  which 
is  not  very  far  off,  at  the  farthest.  I  have  intima- 
tions from  above  that  I  am  wanted  there.  Be 
ready,  dear,  as  I  am  ready,  when  the  angel  comes." 

Her  face  took  on  a  spiritual  expression,  and  her 
voice,  though  weak,  was  cheerful,  even  musical. 

One  afternoon,  a  few  days  later,  as  she  reposed 
on  her  couch,  robed  in  white,  she  held  out  her  arms 
toward  Boyd,  and  the  next  moment  embraced  him. 
With  a  strange  but  unspeakably  happy  expression 
on  her  face,  and  in  her  eyes,  she  said : 

"O,  my  dear  love !  Don't  be  frightened !  The 
angel  is  here,  and  waits  for  me !  I  have  only  one 
regret  at  going,  and  that  is  to  leave  you !  But  you 
will  come,  too,  before  long,  and  then  we  shall  be 
everlastingly  happy  and  inseparable !  O,  how  I 
have  loved  you,  sweet  heart !  Never  woman  loved 
man  more !  And  my  love  for  you  and  our  dear 
sainted  babes  led  me  to  love  God !  I  don't  think 
I  should  ever  have  loved  Him  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
you,  dear !  You  know  what  a  haughty,  hateful  and 
hating  girl  I  was  when  we  first  met.  But,  from 
our  first  meeting,  onward,  I  felt  a  strange,  sweet, 
potent  spell  that  calmed  my  turbulent  temper, 
curbed  my  restless  disposition,  aroused  prudence, 
and  awakened  'charity  for  all,  and  malice  against 
none.'    Then,  later,  when  we  opened  the  doors  of 


198  THE  LAST  MAN 

our  hearts,  and  let  the  blessed  Christ  come  in,  and 
abide  there,  as  He  has  ever  since  done, — Hark, 
dear !  A  voice,  inaudible  to  you,  is  calling  me !  A 
vision,  invisible  to  you,  beckons  me !  I  know 
where  I  am  going,  dear !  You  know,  too  !  Don't 
weep,  my  earthly  idol !  When  I  am  in  Heaven, 
with  the  children,  I  will,  if  I  may,  still  love  you  as 
now.  Be  ready,  love,  when  the  voice  and  the 
vision  come  to  you !" 

The  physician  had  come  in  noiselessly  and  unob- 
served. A  tremor  shook  the  fair  sufferer's  form  ; 
she  drew  her  husband's  face  down  to  hers,  gave 
him  one  long,  last  kiss,  whispered  audibly,  "Fare- 
well, love,"  and  the  life  was  ended.  The  angel 
had  borne  the  gentle  spirit  back  to  its  native 
heaven  and  nought  remained  but  the  cold,  tenant- 
less  tabernacle ! 

Three  days  later  they  deposited  the  sainted  ashes 
in  their  receptacle  at  Arlington. 

From  this  blow  Colonel  Boyd  never  fully  recov- 
ered. Not  that  life  was  hard  or  comfortless  to  him  ; 
not  that  people  were  less  kind  and  considerate ; 
not  that  there  was  a  dearth  of  interest  in  human 
affairs  to  occupy  his  mind  and  heart ;  but  ever  as  he 
was  engaged  in  efforts  for  the  correction  of  wrongs 
and  the  amelioration  of  want  or  suffering,  the 
image  of  that  radiant  being  who,  for  so  many  years, 
had  doubled  his  joys  and  halved  his  griefs,  by  shar- 
ing them,  would  present  itself  before  him  and 
beckon  him  onward.  And  the  answer  of  his  soul 
was  that  he  would 


THE  BROKEN  LINK  199 

"So  live  that  when  the  summons  should  come 
To  join  the  innumerable  host," 

He  could 

"Wrap  the  drapery  of  his  couch  about  him, 
And  lie  down  to  pleasant  dreams." 

A  few  weeks  after  the  translation  of  Alena,  in 
pursuance  of  a  well-considered  plan,  the  first  im- 
portant subject  to  which  Colonel  Boyd  turned  his 
attention  was  the  "Civil  Service  of  the  United 
States,"  and  certain  reported  violations  of  the  let- 
ter and  spirit  of  the  law  which  had  been  enacted 
for  its  reformation  and  purification. 

"The  Civil  Service"  is  a  term  employed  to  desig- 
nate all  those  necessary  official  duties  and  func- 
tions for  the  Government  which  are  not  included 
in  the  military,  naval,  diplomatic  and  consular  ser- 
vice. The  duties  are  performed  by  an  army  of 
employees,  originally  appointed  from  the  masses 
of  the  people ;  and  as  the  duties  are  multifarious, 
they  have  been  classified,  for  the  most  part,  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  subject,  or  class  of  subjects,  to 
which  they  relate ; — hence,  several  departments, 
such  as  the  "Treasury,"  the  "Interior,"  and  "Agri- 
culture." At  the  head  of  each  Department  is 
placed  an  officer  whose  designation  is  Secretary, 
and  who  becomes  responsible  for  the  performance 
of  the  duties  and  labors  of  his  Department.  Un- 
der his  direction  a  number  of  subordinates  are 
appointed,  such  as  Comptrollers,  Commissioners, 
and  the  like ;  and,  beneath  these  in  rank  and  sal- 


200  THE  LAST  MAN 

ary,  are  the  great  bodies  of  clerks  and  other  opera- 
tives, under  the  immediate  personal  supervision 
and  control  of  chiefs  of  divisions,  as  they  are  called. 
All  these  subordinates  are  chosen  or  appointed 
ostensibly  on  the  ground  that  they  are  qualified  by 
education,  general  knowledge,  and  good  character, 
to  enter  upon,  learn  and  perform  with  skill  the 
duties  of  their  several  offices. 

In  the  early  days  of  the  Republic  no  exalted 
officer  thought  it  proper  to  appoint  or  nominate 
for  appointment  to  an  office  a  warm  personal 
friend  because  of  such  relation.  One  of  the  first 
four  Presidents,  when  solicited  to  appoint  a  person 
to  a  place,  invariably  asked  two  pertinent  ques- 
tions, "Is  he  honest?"  and  "Is  he  competent?"  and 
upon  the  answers  to  these  depended  the  official 
action.  There  was  nothing  of  nepotism,  and  little 
of  politics,  in  the  service  then,  and  so  it  remained 
until  hunger  and  greed  for  offices,  great  and  small, 
developed  what  was,  and  is  yet,  called  the  "spoils 
system,"  whereby  the  service  was  prostituted  to 
the  rewarding  of  political  friends,  henchmen  and 
backers  for  their  aid  and  services  in  political  cam- 
paigns. "To  the  victors  belong  the  spoils"  be- 
came the  motto  of  the  party  which  succeeded  to 
power,  and  from  that  time  forward,  for  nearly  fifty 
years,  the  civil  service  was,  to  a  great  extent,  the 
refuge,  and  its  perquisites  the  reward,  of  many 
persons  whose  principal — often  their  sole — quali- 
fication for  the  positions  they  sought  and  secured, 
was  that  of  a  devoted  and  even  unprincipled  service 


THE  BROKEN  LINK  201 

for  a  political  party.  This  was  the  "spoils  system," 
pure  and  simple,  adequately  illustrated.  No  wonder 
that  the  service  suffered  from  incompetency,  venal- 
ity, and  dishonesty,  and  that  it  became  a  hissing 
and  a  by-word. 

Press  and  people  began  to  enter  protests  against 
these  abuses,  but  political  bosses  and  bummers 
laughed  them  to  scorn. 

"Revolutions  never  go  backward."  The  good 
common  sense  of  a  large  part  of  the  people  con- 
tinued to  insist  that  a  service  which  cost  so  much 
should  command  better  talent  and  better  work. 
The  sentiment,  like  leaven,  became  so  widespread 
and  potent,  that  in  the  eighties  Congress  framed 
and  passed  "an  Act  to  regulate  and  improve  the 
Civil  Service,"  which  by  the  terms  of  the  act, 
went  into  immediate  effect.  Favorable  results  soon 
followed,  and,  ere  long,  Representatives,  and  even 
Senators,  became  friends  of  the  renovated  service. 
The  great  political  parties  inserted  in  their  plat- 
form a  plank  favoring  "Civil  Service  reform."  The 
service  continued  to  improve,  and  yet,  at  the  close 
of  several  years,  there  remained  much  to  be  done 
before  it  would  be  a  complete  system  as  intended 
by  the  law.  It  was  at  this  juncture  that  Boyd 
began  his  efforts  and  investigations. 

An  incident  occurred  which  served  to  intensify, 
and  render  practical,  his  opinions  and  convictions. 
In  all  the  years  of  Boyd's  widower  life,  though 
genial  and  affable  to  all,  he  had  quietly  but  steadily 
declined  to  be  controlled  by  the  mandates  and  fol- 


202  THE  LAST  MAN 

lies  of  society,  so  called,  or  to  be  inveigled  in  the 
meshes  of  any  class  or  "set."  Devices  to  entrap 
him  into  an  alliance  of  marriage  with  this  or  that 
"rich,  charming  widow,"  or  this  or  that  "beautiful 
young  belle,  just  out  in  her  first  season,"  utterly 
failed  to  produce  any  response.  But  in  a  case  of 
suffering  or  helplessness,  or  injustice,  his  sensibili- 
ties were  easily  excited,  and  his  efforts  in  the  way 
of  relief  spontaneous  and  energetic. 

The  bell  rang,  and  a  boy  presented  a  note  ad- 
dressed to  Boyd,  running  thus  : 

"No.  943 Street, 

Jan.  8,  i8&— . 
"Dear  Colonel  Boyd  : — 

"Having  learned  from  many  sources  that  you 
are  a  good  friend  to  those  who  are  in 
trouble,  though  an  entire  stranger,  I  venture 
to  request  that  you  will  call,  very  soon,  to  hear  of 
our  trouble,  and  to  see  whether  anything  can  be 
done.  My  oldest  daughter,  who  for  some  years 
past,  has  been  the  mainstay  and  support  of  the 
family, — there  are  five  of  us, — was  dismissed  from 
her  office,  unjustly  as  we  think,  and  a  great,  stout 
man  from  a  distant  State,  who  knows  nothing 
about  the  duties  of  the  position,  has  been  put  into 
her  place.  We  are  in  want.  Please  come  and  see 
us.  Very  respectfully, 

"Mrs.  R.  a.  Lane." 

Without  a  moment's  hesitancy,  Boyd  accom- 
panied the  boy  to  Mrs.  Lane's  home.     Calling  the 


THE  BROKEN  LINK  203 

daughter,  a  bright,  accomplished  young  woman, 
the  mother  bade  her  relate  the  case.  Presenting 
the  letter  of  dismissal  on  account  of  "incompe- 
tency," as  was  set  forth,  Boyd  asked  her  to  explain 
fully  the  terms  of  "competency"  and  "incompe- 
tency," which  she  did  in  clear,  lucid  terms : 

"A  record  is  kept  in  every  Bureau  of  the  effi- 
ciency of  each  employee,  as  estimated  by  the  terms 
and  conditions  ordained  by  the  President  in  an 
official  order.  This  record  is  made  out  and  enter- 
ed at  the  end  of  each  calendar  month,  in  books 
prepared  for  the  purpose,  and  any  employee  is  en- 
titled to  take  and  preserve  a  copy  of  his  record.  If 
he  falls  below  the  minimum  standard,  for  several 
months  in  succession,  he  is  regarded  as  'incompe- 
tent,' and  is  liable  to  reduction  of  his  salary,  or 
dismissal.  If,  however,  he  maintains  a  standing 
above  the  minimum,  he  is  to  be  retained ;  and  if 
his  average  standing  is  very  high,  he  is  regarded 
as  worthy  of  promotion  to  a  higher  salary.  This 
is  regarded  as  'competency.'  Here  are  copies  of 
my  record.  Colonel,  for  every  month  in  the  last 
three  years.  I  have  never  fallen  below  the  mini- 
mum, and  have  nearly  always  approached  the  max- 
imum." 

"How  could  they  dismiss  you,  Miss  Lane,  with 
such  a  record  as  this?"  inquired  Boyd. 

"That  is  the  point.  Colonel.  I  think  there  must 
be  a  mistake.     Would  you  not  think  so  ?" 

"And  what  of  the  man  who  took  your  place, 
Miss  Lane?" 


204  THE  LAST  MAN 

"O,  he  is  a  new-comer,  and  never  did  any  clerical 
work  before,  as  I  have  learned." 

"Do  you  know  of  any  other  cases  like  yours?" 

"O,  yes,  several  of  them,  within  the  past  year." 

"Were  they  all  discharged?" 

"Some  were  dismissed  and  others  reduced  in  sal- 
ary." 

"And  who  took  their  places  ?" 

"Outsiders,  mostly ;  some  of  them  women." 

"Well,  Miss  Lane,  if  you  will  permit  me  to  retain 
your  papers,  I  will  investigate  the  subject.  I  have 
learned  from  other  sources  that  there  are  violations 
of  the  law  and  the  Presidential  order  respecting 
the  civil  service,  and  I  propose  to  look  into  the 
matter  as  every  citizen  has  the  right  and  privilege 
of  doing." 

Needless  to  say  that  within  a  fortnight  Miss 
Lane  was  restored  to  her  position,  and  the  man 
who  had  been  foisted  into  her  place  and  been  draw- 
ing her  salary  was  restored  to  liberty,  and  advised 
to  apply  to  the  Civil  Service  Commission  for  a 
certificate  of  qualifications  and  eligibility,  as  he 
had  never  passed  that  ordeal.  While  investigating 
Miss  Lane's  case,  Boyd  ascertained  facts  like 
these : 

That  while  the  Civil  Service  Commission  was  the 
gateway  into  the  service,  the  commission  had  no 
power  to  keep  in  place  the  competent  and  deserv- 
ing, nor  to  remove  from  the  service  those  whose 
work  or  character  fell  below  the  standard  contem- 
plated by  the  law ; 


THE  BROKEN  LINK  205 

That  many  employees  were  dismissed  or  reduced 
and  others  were  appointed,  or  promoted,  in  viola- 
tion of  the  spirit,  and  even  the  letter  of  the  Presi- 
dential orders ; 

That  many  chiefs  of  divisions  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  furnishing  for  the  Secretary's  eye  and  ac- 
tion, a  "confidential  report"  of  the  standing  of 
their  clerks,  which  was  never  seen  by  them, — in- 
stead of  the  report  entered  in  the  books  in  obedi- 
ence to  the  regulations ;  and  that  this  so-called 
"confidential  report"  was  often  the  basis  upon 
which  dismissals,  reductions  and  promotions  were 
made,  as  in  the  case  of  Miss  Lane. 

To  say  that  Colonel  Boyd  made  faithful  and  un- 
ceasing efforts  for  the  abatement  of  these  and 
other  wrongs  and  defects  in  the  civil  service  were 
a  truism.  Nor  was  he  alone.  A  band  of  noble 
compatriots  of  all  parties  and  creeds  participated 
in  the  contest.  Whether  by  conferences  with  Sec- 
retaries, with  the  Civil  Service  Commission,  with 
Presidents,  with  Senators  and  Representatives, 
they  ceased  not  to  wage  untiring  opposition  to  all 
these  defects  and  deviations  from  the  letter  and 
spirit  of  the  law,  until  the  last  vestige  of  corruption 
was  exorcised  and  eliminated  from  the  entire  civil 
service. 


XIX. 

LENGTHENING  SHADOWS. 

The  year  1900  had  gone,  completing  the  nine- 
teenth century,  the  twentieth  century  had  begun, 
and  Colonel  Boyd  was  now  past  middle  age.  He 
lived  without  care,  except  to  look  after  the  welfare 
of  his  colony,  and  his  brother,  Bertrand  Long,  to 
each  of  which  he  continued  to  make  visits  at  least 
twice  a  year. 

The  original  colonists  began  to  die  rapidly, 
from  age,  rather  than  disease,  and  their  sons  and 
daughters,  to  whom  the  properties  descended,  in- 
termarried, often  with  the  better  class  of  the  natives 
of  the  surrounding"  country,  until  in  time  the  popu- 
lation greatly  exceeded  all  that  had  been  antici- 
pated. Mr.  Bertrand  Long  became  not  merely 
well-to-do,  but  even  wealthy,  and  lived  long 
enough  to  enjoy  the  presence  of  a  family  of  several 
children,  the  youngest  of  which,  in  after  years, 
when  a  young  man,  came  to  live  with  Colonel 
Boyd  at  the  Capital. 

Boyd  lived  to  see  his  hope  fulfilled,  and  his 
efforts,  with  those  of  other  progressive  men,  re- 
warded in  the  final  establishment  of  a  civil  service, 
in  fact  as  well  as  in  name,  upon  a  foundation  as 
immutable  as  an  Article  of  the  Constitution.  Un- 
der its  provisions  and  operations  no  one  properly 


LENGTHENING   SHADOWS  207 

admitted  to  the  service,  true  to  his  oath  of  office, 
faithful  and  efficient  in  the  discharge  of  his  duties, 
and  upright  in  his  habits,  was  exposed  to  the  terror 
of  removal  from  office,  or  reduction  of  his  salary, 
so  long  as  he  remained  physically  and  mentally 
competent  for  the  service. 

Thus,  at  last,  after  a  period  of  more  than  thirty 
years,  was  the  civil  service  restored  to  the  original 
JefTersonian  requirements  of  honesty  and  com- 
petency. 

Government  employees,  instead  of  feeling  and 
acting  as  strangers  in  a  strange  land,  and  living  a 
species  of  Bohemian  life,  became  staunch,  reliable, 
prosperous  citizens,  and  all  kinds  of  real  estate 
acquired  fixed,  unvarying  values.  The  Capital 
grew,  because  it  must  grow.  Its  great  public 
library,  for  whose  establishment  and  endowment 
Colonel  Boyd  and  others  contributed  large  sums, 
became  one  of  the  foremost  in  the  land.  The  pub- 
lic schools  were,  as  they  should  be,  not  only  the 
colleges  of  the  people,  but  reliable  nurseries  for 
the  universities.  The  old-time  cheap  wooden 
buildings,  as  well  as  the  brick  structures  of  a  for- 
mer generation,  gave  way  to  elegant,  spacious  edi- 
fices, illustrating  in  their  diverse  structures  all  the 
principal  styles  of  architecture  in  Europe. 

Years  prior  to  1920  all  the  street  railways  had 
become  rapid  transit,  and  had  pushed  their  lines 
far  into  the  surrounding  States  of  Maryland  and 
Virginia.  The  entire  city,  the  Government  build- 
ings, the  churches  and  places  of  amusement,  as  well 


208  THE  LAST  MAN 

as  hundreds  of  residences,  were  brilliantly  lighted 
by  electricity,  generated  at  "Great  Falls."  The 
supply  of  water  was  derived  from  the  same  inex- 
haustible source,  and  was  conducted  through  great 
sub-surface  tunnels  into  vast  reservoirs,  after  pass- 
ing through  filters  of  adequate  capacity. 

The  beautiful  statue  of  Liberty  surmounting  the 
dome  of  the  Capitol  had  long  since  exchanged  her 
black,  sorrowful  garment  for  a  golden  one,  which 
glittered  and  sparkled  by  day  in  the  sunlight,  by 
night  in  the  moonlight,  and  at  other  times,  in  the 
absence  of  sun  and  moon,  her  chaste  form  was 
rendered  visible  by  a  series  of  electric  lights,  whose 
effulgence  was  concentrated  upon  her  through  a 
system  of  convex  lenses. 

But  more  wonderful  and  magnificent  than  all 
else  was  the  memorial  bridge  across  the  Potomac, 
uniting  the  Virginia  shore  with  the  Capital. 
Though  only  a  mile  in  length,  it  surpassed  all  other 
massive,  ornate  structures  of  its  kind  in  the  world. 
On  each  edge  of  the  bridge,  atop  the  coping,  at 
regular  intervals,  stood  statues  of  all  the  principal 
heroes  of  the  several  wars  in  which  the  Republic 
had  been  engaged,  from  the  Revolution  to  the  date 
of  the  construction.  Interspersed  with  these  were 
statues  of  all  the  Presidents,  and  many  statesmen 
of  renown.  At  night  the  bridge  was  illuminated 
by  a  multitude  of  incandescent  lights,  rendering 
every  object  plainly  visible.  At  each  end  an  arc 
of  these  lights,  more  than  a  hundred  yards  long, 
rose  above  and  encircled  the  abutments.     Between 


LENGTHENING   SHADOWS  209 

midnight  and  morning  the  floor  of  the  bridge  was 
sprinkled  and  swept  by  machines,  driven  by  elec- 
tric motors.  Telephonic  connections  from  shore 
to  shore  insured  quick  and  sure  transmission  of 
orders  and  messages,  official  and  otherwise.  Above 
the  summit  of  the  arc,  at  the  Capital  end,  stood  a 
gigantic  statue  of  Liberty,  while  at  the  Virginia 
end  was  an  equally  large  statue  of  America,  or  the 
American  freeman.  Surmounting  all,  and  cover- 
ing the  entire  structure,  was  a  complete  cover  or 
canopy  of  thick,  heavy,  transparent  glass,  enlivened 
here  and  there  by  large  historical  panels. 

In  the  midst  of  such  splendid  environments, 
Colonel  Boyd  lived  and  grew  old,  grandly  and 
gracefully,  and  at  last  became  somewhat  superan- 
nuated physically,  though  his  mental  faculties  re- 
mained bright  and  active.  Reminiscences  of  great 
men  and  great  events  furnished  him  themes  for 
reflection  and  subjects  for  conversation  with  visit- 
ors of  the  younger  generation  who  came  habitually 
and  often  to  hear  his  wonderful  relations  of  the 
times  now  long  past.  He  had  been  personally  well 
acquainted  with  many  of  the  military  heroes  and 
distinguished  statesmen  and  judges  of  the  preced- 
ing half-century,  among  whom  were  Lincoln,  Sew- 
ard, Chase,  Sherman,  Thurman,  Hendricks,  and 
others  whose  names  and  deeds  will  live  forever, 
and  whose  fame  will  shine  as  stars  of  the  first  mag- 
nitude in  the  historical  firmament  of  the  great  Re- 
public. 

For  several  years  Boyd's  nephew,  Charles  Long, 
14 


210  THE  LAST  MAN 

the  youngest  son  of  Bertrand  Long,  now  deceased, 
had  lived  with  his  uncle  to  take  care  of  him,  miti- 
gate his  loneliness,  and  perform  errands  and  offices 
requiring  youth  and  activity. 

The  young  man  was  a  law  student  in  one  of  the 
universities.  Reared  in  the  South,  he  was  expert 
in  all  the  sports  and  diversions  of  that  section,  es- 
pecially the  use  of  firearms.  Thoroughly  devoted 
to  his  uncle,  and  completely  devoid  of  fear,  the 
Boyd  mansion  was  as  well  protected  and  defended 
as  any  residence  at  the  Capital. 

When  the  arrangements  for  the  spectacle  de- 
scribed at  the  beginning  of  this  volume  were  to  be 
made,  the  old  man  aroused  from  his  lethargy,  be- 
stirred his  limbs  and  his  mind,  and  rendered  most 
valuable  advice  to  the  committees  having  charge 
of  the  preparations.  He  alone  could  give  authen- 
tic information  regarding  many  things  to  be  com- 
memorated on  that  occasion.  And  when  the  fete 
occurred,  he,  alone,  stood  in  the  presence  of  three 
generations  to  impersonate  the  heroes  and  the  im- 
mortal deeds  of  the  Glorious  Past. 

Thus  far  in  the  progress  of  this  story  a  seeming 
omission  has  occurred,  which,  though  uninten- 
tional, will  now  be  supplied. 

In  the  eighties,  after  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Boyd 
had  established  their  home  in  Washington,  there 
came  to  the  Capital  a  large  body  of  excursionists 
from  Richmond  and  other  cities  and  towns  of  Vir- 
ginia, for  the  purpose  of  sight-seeing,  with  all  that 
the  term  includes. 


LENGTHENING   SHADOWS  211 

There  were  within  their  ranks  many  distinguished 
men  and  fair  women,  some  of  them  authoresses, 
and  some  the  descendants  of  long  lines  of  illustri- 
ous ancestries. 

One  afternoon  a  cab  drove  up  and  stopped  be- 
fore the  gate  of  the  Boyd  mansion.  A  man,  seem- 
ingly of  middle  age,  descended  from  the  vehicle 
and  entered  the  grounds,  leaving  the  cab  in  waiting. 
Dressed  in  an  elegant,  light-colored  suit,  and 
sporting  a  becoming,  fashionable  hat,  he  reached 
and  ascended  the  steps  to  the  house,  rang  the  elec- 
tric bell,  and,  a  servant  appearing,  inquired  for 
Colonel  Boyd.  Seating  the  stranger,  the  servant 
informed  Mr.  Boyd  of  the  call  of  a  strange  gentle- 
man. 

On  the  colonel's  appearing,  the  stranger  arose 
and  inquired  whether  he  was  Colonel  Boyd. 

"I  am  he,  and  whom  have  I  the  pleasure  of  see- 
ing?" replied  the  colonel. 

"Do  you  not  remember  me?"  asked  the  stranger, 
as  a  smile  spread  over  his  face. 

Looking  sharply  for  a  moment.  Colonel  Boyd 
sprang  forward,  rushed  into  the  stranger's  out- 
stretched arms,  almost  shouting,  "Well,  I  declare ! 
You  are  no  other  than  my  dear  army  surgeon.  Dr. 
Culp !  Of  all  men,  you  are  the  one  I  have  been 
longing  to  see  for  the  past  twenty  years.  Come  to 
the  library.  Doctor,  I  must  have  a  long,  long  talk 
with  you." 

"But,"  said  the  doctor,  "I  am  obliged  to  limit 
my  call  to  a  few  minutes,  as  the  excursion  of  which 


212  THE  LAST  MAN 

I  am  a  member  will  return  to  Richmond  to-morrow 
evening,  and  there  are  yet  many  things  we  desire 
to  see." 

"Don't  say  so,  Doctor,"  said  Boyd ;  "send  away 
your  cab  and  stay  for  the  evening,  and  the  night  if 
you  will.  There  is  another  person  in  the  house 
who,  I  know,  should  see  you." 

"Who,  Colonel?" 

"My  wife,  Doctor;  she  has  heard  a  deal  about 
you,  and  would  never  forgive  me  if  I  should  let 
you  leave  the  house  without  her  seeing  you  and 
hearing  you  talk." 

"I  am  sure  I  can't  imagine  who  she  may  be. 
Colonel." 

"My  wife.  Doctor." 

"Well,  under  such  circumstances,  I  submit,  as 
ladies  almost  always  have  their  way,"  said  the  doc- 
tor. "I  will  discharge  the  cab."  Walking  to  the 
gate  for  that  purpose,  he  returned  to  find  a  lady  of 
mature  age  and  condition  standing  by  the  colonel. 

"My  dear,"  said  Boyd,  "this  is  Dr.  Culp,  the  sur- 
geon who  treated  me  when  a  prisoner,  and  of  whom 
I  have  spoken  so  often.  Dr.  Culp,  this  is  my  wife, 
whom  you  have  met  before,  or  may  have  heard  of 
before." 

The  two  bowed  and  smiled,  and  Mrs.  Boyd,  ex- 
tending her  hand,  said : 

"Doctor,  I  am  so  glad  to  meet  you  again." 

Hark  !  that  voice  !  And  as  he  gazed  with  widely- 
opened  eyes,  a  flash  of  intelligence  overspread  Dr. 
Culp's  features  and  he  exclaimed :  "As  I  am  a  liv- 


LENGTHENING   SHADOWS  213 

ing  man,  this  is  the  identical  Miss  Long,  the  heroic 
little  girl  who  was  one  of  our  hospital  nurses !  Well, 
well,  wonders  never  cease.  I  always  knew,  or  felt, 
I  should  say,  that  you  two  would  become  one !" 

"Be  seated.  Doctor,"  said  Mrs.  Boyd,  "and  tell 
me  why  you  thought  and  felt  so." 

"Because,"  said  he,  "I  felt  that  it  ought  to  be 
so ;  Colonel  Boyd  felt  that  it  ought  to  be  so ;  and 
if  you  will  permit  me  to  say  it,  I  felt  that  you  felt 
that  it  ought  to  be  so,  madam." 

Hearty  laughter  greeted  the  doctor's  diagnosis 
of  the  case. 

"I  always  suspected,  Doctor,  that  you  suspected 
my  secret — the  most  charming,  sacred  secret  that 
a  young  woman  ever  has,  and  the  suspicion  an- 
noyed me  at  the  time ;  but  now  that  it  is  all  over 
and  gone,  I  am  glad  that,  if  any  one  should,  and 
did  know,  it  was  you,  rather  than  one  of  my  own 
sex,  or  some  other  man  who  might  have  put  a  bad 
construction  on  my  actions." 

"And  I  knew,"  said  Boyd,  "that  you  knew  the 
state  of  my  feelings  for  Miss  Long  at  the  time,  and 
felt  extremely  proud  that  you  did  know  it." 

Again  there  was  an  impromptu  trio  of  hearty 
laughter.     Suddenly  the  doctor  said : 

"By  the  way,  Colonel,  I  have  wondered  a  thou- 
sand times  what  ever  became  of  your  sword,  sash 
and  revolver,  which  we  could  not  find  when  you 
were  leaving  us  to  be  exchanged." 

"Excuse  me  for  a  moment,  Doctor,"  said  Boyd. 
Returning  with  the  articles,  he  placed  them  in  the 


214  THE  LAST  MAN 

doctor's  hands,  saying,  "They  speak  for  them- 
selves." 

Dr.  Gulp's  eyes  sparkled  at  first,  and  then  grew 
dim  with  moisture  as  he  read  Miss  Long's  note, 
now  yellow  with  age,  attached  to  the  hilt  of  the 
sword.  "Ah,  that  was  just  Hke  you,  Mrs.  Boyd. 
I  always  ,felt  that,  somehow  or  other,  you  would 
secure  these  precious  articles.  'Tis  another  apt 
illustration  of  the  old  adage,  'Where  there's  a  will 
there's  a  way.'  " 

Said  Boyd :  "The  articles  are  priceless — not  for 
their  inherent  value,  but  for  the  associations  con- 
nected with  them." 

"So  mote  it  be !"  said  the  doctor. 

At  their  earnest  solicitation,  he  remained  over- 
night, and  words  of  kindness  and  reminiscence  and 
comradery  filled  the  fleeting  hours  till  long  after 
midnight. 

And  when,  on  the  morrow,  these  three  noble 
souls  clasped  hands  and  "good-byes"  were  spoken, 
and  Dr.  Gulp  departed,  a  friendship  as  strong  as 
life  had  been  crystallized  and  cemented  forever. 


XX. 

THE  ENDING. 

Several  years  subsequent  to  the  pageant  of  July 
4th,  1926,  on  that  other  national  anniversary  cele- 
brating the  birth  of  Washington,  Colonel  Boyd, 
although  quite  feeble,  participated  in  a  distinguished 
public  function  commemorative  of  the  great  event. 

Returning  home,  much  exhausted,  he  retired 
early  and  was  soon  asleep.  Young  Charles  Long 
came  in,  and,  as  was  his  custom,  rested  on  a  couch 
in  his  uncle's  room. 

The  clocks  had  rung  out  the  midnight  hour,  the 
lights  in  the  Boyd  mansion  were  extinguished,  and 
almost  perfect  silence  reigned.  Suddenly  a  suc- 
cession of  reports  of  firearms — four  of  them — ap- 
parently in  the  colonel's  apartments,  rang  out 
upon  the  stillness  and  awakened  the  sleeping  ser- 
vants. There  was  a  heavy  fall  of  something  in  the 
colonel's  room,  and,  a  moment  later,  another  fall 
outside  the  room,  on  the  stairway,  and  then  all  was 
silent  again.  The  servants,  now  fully  aroused, 
turned  up  the  lights  in  the  lower  hall  and  then 
stood  timid  and  hesitant. 

At  the  same  time  two  police  officers  were  stand- 
ing talking  at  a  street  crossing,  about  two  squares 
distant.  Hearing  the  pistol  shots,  at  that  time  of 
night,  and  in  the  direction  of  the  Boyd  mansion, 


21b-  THE  LAST  MAN 

they  moved  with  more  than  ordinary  celerity,  and 
reached  the  grounds  in  front  just  as  the  Hghts  were 
turned  up  in  the  hall.  Ringing  the  door  bell  vig- 
orously, one  of  the  servants,  a  colored  man,  tim- 
idly ventured  to  open  the  door.  There  stood  the 
policemen,  who  asked  him  where  the  shooting  was. 

"  'Deed,  I  doesn't  know,  but  'peared  to  me  ez  if 
it  war  upstairs  in  de  Colonel's  room.  I  was  dead 
asleep,  and  dunno  jist  whar  it  war.  I  didn't  do  no 
shootin'." 

"Where  is  the  Colonel's  room?"  asked  one  of 
the  officers. 

"On  de  next  floh  above,"  replied  the  servant. 

"And  where  is  the  Colonel?"  asked  they. 

"Dunno ;  guess  he's  upstahs  in  de  room  with 
young  Mistah  Long.  I  hesn't  seed  either  of  dem 
since  afoah  dark." 

"And  who  are  these  colored  people  back  yon- 
der?" asked  the  officer. 

"Dem's  de  oder  sarvants,  boss,"  said  he. 

"Well,  now,  you  just  stay  with  us,  and  don't  try 
to  get  away;  do  you  hear?"  said  the  officer. 

"Yes,  sail,  I  heahs." 

Then,  with  revolvers  in  hand,  and  the  servant 
pushed  ahead  of  them,  they  began  the  ascent  of  the 
stairway. 

Ha !  They  reached  the  landing  where  the  stair- 
way turned  at  a  right  angle,  and  there,  in  the 
shadow,  lies  a  man.  They  bend  forward  and  look 
closer.  The  man  is  either  asleep,  or  dead,  or  in 
hiding.     They  push  the  servant  forward,  regard- 


THE  ENDING  217 

less  of  his  fears  and  expostulations.  The  prone 
figure  moves  not.  In  a  minute  more  they  are 
assured  that  he  is  dead.  They  cause  the  servant 
to  go  up  to  the  hall  above  and  turn  on  the  light. 
Yes,  the  man  is  dead,  and  the  ofiicers  recognize 
him  as  a  notorious  housebreaker  and  thief  who 
had  eluded  the  vigilance  of  the  police  force  of  the 
Capital  and  other  cities  for  years.  His  revolver 
is  still  held  in  his  right  hand.  A  little  pool  of  blood 
near  his  chest  shows  where  the  ball  had  penetrated. 
They  wrest  the  revolver  from  his  hand  and  proceed 
to  complete  the  ascent  of  the  stainvay,  one  cau- 
tioning the  other  to  "look  sharp"  for  the  dead  rob- 
ber's partner.  They  reach  the  second  floor,  peer 
cautiously  in  all  directions,  then  move  forward  to 
the  door  of  the  colonel's  apartment,  which  is  wide 
open. 

The  room  is  dark,  but  the  ofiicers  compel  the 
servant  to  enter  and  turn  up  the  light.  Horrible ! 
There  lies  a  young  man  on  the  floor,  dead,  his 
hand  still  clasping  a  revolver ! 

After  assuring  themselves  that  the  dead  robber 
had  no  accomplice,  or  that,  if  there  was  one,  he 
had  escaped,  they  return  to  the  young  man.  There 
is  the  small  pink  spot  on  his  forehead  which  shows 
where  a  ball  went  crashing  into  his  brain.  His 
death  was  instantaneous.  They  turn  to  the  bed 
on  which  lies  Colonel  Boyd,  unconscious,  but 
breathing  loud  and  stertorous.  His  eyes  are  wide 
open,  but  he  sees  not.  All  his  senses  and  sensa- 
tions are  suspended,  if  not  destroyed.     Away  runs 


218  THE  LAST  MAN 

one  of  the  officers  for  a  physician.  The  physician 
comes,  administers  a  restorative,  and  the  colonel 
returns  to  consciousness. 

Looking  about  anxiously,  his  first  words  are, 
"Where  is  Charles — Charles  Long?"  The  physi- 
cian and  officers  realize  the  importance  of  hiding 
from  him  the  fate  of  the  young  man,  and  so  parry 
the  inquiry. 

"Where  was  he  when  you  retired,  Colonel  ?"  asks 
the  physician. 

"O,  don't  trifle  with  me,  Doctor ;  I  was  awake 
when  the  robber  and  Charles  fired  upon  each 
other,  but  all  at  once  I  lost  consciousness.  Tell 
me  where  Charles  is,  Doctor,"  plead  the  poor,  dis- 
tressed old  man. 

"I  wasn't  here,"  said  the  physician ;  "can  you 
officers  answer  the  Colonel's  question?" 

"No,"  said  one  of  them,  "we  were  not  here, 
either." 

"Charles  and  the  robber  both  fired,"  said  the 
colonel,  "and  Charles  was  a  dead  shot,  and  so  I 
think  he  wounded,  and  maybe  killed,  the  scoun- 
drel.    Have  you  looked  for  the  robbers?" 

The  officers  and  the  physician  exchange  looks, 
and  one  of  the  officers  replies : 

"Yes,  Colonel,  the  robber  is  killed,  and  lies  out 
here  on  the  stairway.  The  young  man  shot  him 
in  the  breast." 

"Didn't  the  robber  have  a  revolver,  too?"  asks 
the  colonel. 

"O,  yes,  here  it  is,"  said  the  officer. 


THE  ENDING  219 

"Well,  where  is  Charles?  I  demand  to  know. 
Is  he  killed,  too?" 

"Now,  Colonel  Boyd,"  said  the  doctor,  "you 
have  seen  death  in  many  forms  in  your  life,  have 
you  not?" 

"O,  yes;  but  tell  me,  is  Charles  killed?"  asks  he. 

"Well,  you  must  not  be  surprised  or  shocked  at 
anything,  Colonel,"  said  the  doctor. 

"Go  on !  Tell  me  the  worst  Doctor,"  said  the 
old  man.     "Is  Charles  dead?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  doctor,  "he  is  dead.  The  thief 
shot  him  in  the  head." 

"I  feared  so,"  said  the  old  man.  "O,  he  was  a 
grand  young  man,  and  I  had  made  him  heir  to 
most  of  my  estate.     Now  he's   gone.     Well,   we 

shall'all  go  soon,  and "  here  he  was  seized  with 

a  spasm,  and  lost  consciousness  again.  In  vain 
did  the  doctor  employ  all  the  means  known  to 
medical  science  to  resuscitate  him. 

His  pulsations  weakened,  stopped  within  an 
hour,  and  he  was  dead ! 

The  doctor  opened  the  blinds,  threw  up  the  win- 
dows, and  the  first  streakings  of  the  dawn  of  a 
midsummer  morning  stole  into  the  apartment  and 
the  hall  where  lay  the  three  lifeless  forms. 

Detectives  had  been  sent  for  by  the  police  offi- 
cers, and,  on  their  arrival,  proceeded  to  ascertain 
and  arrange  the  facts  resulting  in  the  triple  tragedy. 

The  sad  intelligence  of  the  death  of  Colonel 
Boyd  had  reached  every  household  and  every  ear 
in  the  city  before  the  morning  papers  were  issued. 


220  THE  LAST  MAN 

The  Commissioners  of  the  District  issued  an  extra 
morning  paper,  recommending  that  the  flags, 
which  on  yesterday  had  fluttered  in  joy  and  peace, 
should  be  permitted  to  remain  in  their  places,  and 
that  a  service  of  black  crape,  the  emblem  of  sor- 
row, should  be  attached.  The  people  without  ex- 
ception observed  the  suggestion,  and  for  the  next 
three  days  the  city  was  in  deep  mourning. 

The  detectives  ascertained  the  facts  and  the 
coroner's  jury  rendered  verdicts  accordingly. 

The  housebreaker,  bent  on  robbery,  and  taking 
advantage  of  the  tired  condition  of  the  household 
and  the  city,  had  located  the  Boyd  mansion  during 
the  preceding  afternoon,  with  the  intention  of  rob- 
bery, and  murder  if  necessary. 

Climbing  up  a  ladder  at  the  back  of  the  house, 
he  pried  up  a  window  and  softly  entered.  There 
was  one  element  in  the  problem  of  which  he  was 
ignorant.  He  did  not  know  that  there  was  any 
one  in  the  apartment  with  Colonel  Boyd.  Had  he 
known  this,  he  would  not  have  ventured.  He 
entered  the  apartment,  when  suddenly  some  one  in 
the  darkness  fired  upon  him  and  he  was  wounded 
in  the  left  arm.  A  desperate  character,  he  pulled 
his  revolver  and  fired  at  the  dim  figure.  Again 
the  colonel's  protector  fired,  and  the  thief  felt  that 
he  was  mortally  wounded,  but  he  summoned  up 
his  remaining  though  fast-failing  strength,  aimed, 
and  fired  again,  and  had  the  fiendish  pleasure  of 
hearing  the  man  fall  heavily.     Then  he  turned  and 


THE  ENDING  221 

hastened  to  get  out  of  the  house,  but  on  reaching 
the  stairway  he  too  fell  dead. 

On  the  third  day  after  these  thrilling  events  a 
vast  and  notable  procession  accompanied  the  mor- 
tal remains  of  the  colonel  to  Arlington.  In  the 
grave  prepared  by  the  side  of  his  long-since  de- 
parted wife,  in  that  most  beautiful  and  classic  of 
Government  cemeteries,  they  laid  him,  and  filled 
the  grave  to  the  full  with  fragrant  flowers,  fitting 
emblems  of  the  life  and  qualities  of  the  grand  man 
whose  ashes  lay  beneath. 

There 

"He  sleeps  his  last  sleep,  he  has  fought  his  last  battle; 
No  sound  can  awake  him  to  glory  again!" 

Within  a  short  distance  from  his  tomb,  less  than 
the  flight  of  an  arrow,  there  is  a  square,  massive 
granite  monument,  erected  to  "The  Unknown 
Dead,"  on  one  of  whose  faces  is  chiseled  that  im- 
mortal quatrain : 

"On  Fame's  eternal  camping  ground, 
Their  silent  tents  are  spread; 
And  glory  guards,  with  solemn  round, 
The  bivouac  of  the  dead!" 

Of  all  that  mighty  host,  of  all  those  victorious 
armies,  whose  tread  extended  through  twelve 
States,  and  was  heard  around  the  world ;  of  all  that 
grand  body,  once  known  as  the  Grand  Army  of 
the  Republic, — whose  banner,  bore  the  words, 
"Fraternity,  Loyalty,  Charity," — Colonel  Alfred 
Boyd  was 

THE   LAST   MAN  ! 


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